EDWARDVS III. D.G. ANGLIAE ET FRANCIAE REX DOMINVS HIBERNIAE

EDWARD the III King of England and France Lord of Ireland. Hee raigned 50 yeares, 5 mo: Hee died at the manor of Shene in Surrey 1377 and lyeth buried at Westminster

[Page] The Victorious REIGNE OF KING EDVVARD THE THIRD. Written in seven Bookes.

By his Majesties Command.

Tu mihi, tu Pallas, Caesariana veni. Matt.

LONDON: Printed for T. Walkley, and B. Fisher, and are to bee sold at the signe of the Talbot, without Aldersgate. 1635.

TO THE MOST HIGH AND MIGHTY MONARCH, CHARLES, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, KING OF GREAT BRITTAINE, FRANCE, AND IRELAND, DEFEN­DER OF THE FAITH, &c.

SIR,

I Should have humbly cra­ved your Majesties par­don for my omission of the latter part of King Edward's Reigne, but that the sense of mine owne defects have put mee in minde of a more necessary suit, to beg for­givenesse for that part of it whichis here written. For [Page] I am not so presumptuously vaine, when I consider either the Dignity of your Office, or the Vertues of your Person, as to imagine that any writing from my unworthy selfe can bee either too short, er enough ele­gant to be presented to your sacred hand. For should your Maiesty vouchsafe to read it, as the precious howres of so great a Monarch (which maáe Horace affect shortnesse to Augustus Caesar) would tell me the Poem were too too long; so the iudicious Censure of so wise a Prince would make mee tremble at the defects of it. Those defects (whatsoever they be) can be imputed onely to insufficiency; for neither was there Argument wanting, nor yet endevour, since I had the Actions of a great King to require my skill, and the Command of a greater King to obliege my care. Those great Actions of Edward the Third are the Ar­gument of this Poem; which is there ended, where his fortune beganne to decline, where the French by re­volts and private practises regained that, which had beene wonne from them by eminent and famous victories: which times may affoord fitter observati­ons for an acute Historian in Prose, than straines of height for an Heroike Poem. Your gracious Par­don onely can rectifie what may bee amisse in my un­worthy and imperfect labour. In hope of which I hum­bly cast both it and my selfe at your Maiesties feet, [Page] beseeching Almighty God to blesse you with a long and happy Reigne on earth, and after to crowne you with in­corruptible glory. So prayeth

Your Majesties Most humble Subject and Servant, THO. MAY,

I have perused this Booke, and conceive it very worthy to be published.

IO. COKE, Knight, Principall Secretary of State.
Whitehall, 17. of November, 1634.

THE REIGNE OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.
The first Booke.

Argument I.
Edward the third is crown'd; a bootlesse warre
'Gainst Scotland made: ambitious Mortimer
At Notingham surpris'd in all his glory.
Carnarvan Edward's lamentable story.
THe third & greatest Edward's reigne we sing,
The high atchievements of that martial King,
Whose long succesfull prowesse did advance
So many trophees in triumphed France,
And first her golden Lillies bare; who ore
Pyrenes Mountaines to that Westerne shore,
[Page]Where Tagus tumbles through his yellow sand
Into the Ocean, stretch'd his conquering hand.
The second Edward (while disloyall hate
Vn justly strove to cure the wounds of state,
And sadly punish, to this Nations staine,
The grievances of his misgovern'd reigne)
Was now deposed from the Regall throne;
To which the Sonne is chosen, and upon
His Fathers ruines is compell'd to rise;
As if by that the envious Destinies
Meant to allay this Edward's glorious reigne,
As loath to suffer England to obtaine
So great a blessing at the lawfull time,
Or such a Prince without a publike crime:
For which the Land must after suffer, by
A rent so made in his Posteritie.
Young Edward's age may plead his innocence,
And free his fame from this unkind offence:
He did receive not seize the royall crowne,
Which other mens disloyalty had throwne
Too soone on him: nor could an actor be
In his devested father's injurie.
But to employ the new-establish'd state
In forreigne action, and to vindicate
The Kingdomes honour gainst that enemy
A warre on Scotland they at first decree:
[Page]Fresh were the causes of it; a deepe and sad
Remain'd those wounds that warlike Bruce had made,
And that great losse which England had sustain'd
While her unhappy second Edward reign'd.
This expedition that did bootlesse prove
To Englands ends, serv'd onely to remove
The young Kings person, and his court so farre,
(Whilest every thought was busi'd in the warre)
That murdrous Treason, who still shuns the light,
From Hels blacke shades might take his dismall flight,
And worke, without the search of curious eye,
Deposed Edward's wofull tragedy.
But while this execrable murder here
Was wrought upon his person, fruitlesse were
Th'attempts 'gainst Scotland, that the yong King made▪
The same proud traitour Mortimer betray'd
His Countries honour there; and let the foes,
Whom that great English army did enclose
b At Stanhop Parke, retire in safety thence.
By him the Kingdomelost a warres expence;
And that brave Prince, for triumphs borne, to whom
Fate ow'd so many victories to come,
Of his first actions honour was depriv'd.
But this, perchance, the pittying fates contriu'd
T'appease, oh murder'd Edward! thy sad ghost;
That Englands state by his corruption crost
[Page]Might feele thy traitour to be hers, and know
Who kill'd his King, would prove his Countries foe.
This to thy just revenge must make the way.
Forgive the powers above, though they delay
A while, that certaine punishment they owe
To guilt; let Fortune haue a time to show
Her power in raising, and how long she can
In spight of Iustice guard a wicked man,
Till she have made him high enough to be
A fit and hated sacrifice for thee.
Ambitious Mortimer, who reign'd alone
In Isabels misled affection;
And with the beauties of that Queene (as Dower
To them) enjoy'd almost a Regall power,
Had like an high-swolne and impetuous tide
Borne all before him, rais'd to such a pride
As did his owne approaching ruine show,
And draw it on: Plethorike bodies so,
From whence diseases of themselves doe breed,
The seeds of death in that strong fulnesse feed.
The greatest Nobles now begin to feare,
And therefore hate the power of Mortimer.
They that had joyn'd with his attempts before,
And help'd to worke them out, doe now abhor
To see the fruit on him alone to fall.
And though at first they doe not looke at all
[Page]Vpon his wicked deeds, but high estate,
And not his vices but great power doe hate:
At last, through that, his vices they survey.
For Iustice Envie must prepare the way.
But nothing thence feares his aspiring minde;
For Fortune, like her selfe, dooes ever blinde
Her favovrites; who nere decline at all
Their envy'd height untill they ruin'd fall.
Nor ought does hee in their repining see
But his owne greatnesse and selicity,
Swell'd with that flattring distance; provd to move
Their feare, and would not change it for their love,
Till those distastefull courses, that did seeme
To prop his state, wrought on to ruine him.
Faire Notingham, the theater, where all
His pompe is shew'd, must show his sudden fall.
No scene of Fortune in so short a space
Presented ever a more changed face;
Nor more amaz'd spectatours hearts, then here
Did this quick-turning fate of Mortimer,
So farre beyond what any could surmise
They scarse dare trust the witnesse of their eyes.
Such hidden paths doe God's high judgements tread,
That ere the pride of wicked men can dread
Their neere approach, they feele the fatall blow.
His ruine is contriu'd; young Edward now,
[Page]Whose manly thoughts are riper then his yeares,
Had with a number of his stoutest Peeres,
And saithfull servants, cast a ventrous way
In spight of all his guards, to seize the prey.
Night is th'appointed time for their designe;
And now the golden Phoebus 'gan decline
Vnto the West, that young couragious Lord
The noble Mountague (whose prosperous sword
In forraine parts hereafter shall deserve
So well, and early here begins to serve
His Prince at home) a chiefe assistant now
To young King Edward in the overthrow
Of Mortimer, was in his house alone
Retir'd; his youthfull thoughts still fix'd upon
Th'atchievement; tedious seem'd the houres of light
To him, and slow th'approach of duskie night.
His trusty armes with various carving wrought,
And glittering sword two nimble Pages brought;
Which whilest with care they buckle on, at doore
A knocke is heard. Sir Thomas de la Moore,
A Knight well knowne to noble Mountague,
And welcome still, that long had beene a true
And faithfull servant to that wofull Prince
Carnarvan Edward, and had ever since
His Lords accursed murder, mourning spent
His daies, and prayers to God's high throne had sent,
[Page]Imploring justice for so blacke a crime.
His presence is admitted, though the time
And action greatest secrecy require.
To whom, while gazing he did seeme t'admire
Those armes, thus spake the gallant Montague;
Ah thinke not, De la Moore, that vengeance due
To wicked men can be for ever stay'd;
Or that bright Iustice should be still afraid
To draw her sword▪ three Summers now have past,
Thrice has the painted pride of Flora grac'd
Earths joyfull bosome; thrice has winters raine
Bereav'd her of that verdant dresse againe,
Since we (oh shame) have not disdain'd to beare
The yoake of that proud traitour Mortimer,
And England suffred his usurped reigne.
To guard his pride, and fill his pompous traine,
Where ninescore Knights attend his gawdy state,
The Royall patrimony's spent of late.
That wealth, that noble Edward should possesse,
His mother holds, whose unjust Dower no lesse
Containes (should all the Crowne revenues be
But rightly valu'd) then two parts of three.
And what she holds, false Mortimer enjoyes;
Who link'd too neere in love with her, destroyes
Not onely her revenues, but her fame,
And brands the kingdome with another shame.
[Page]One Port, one undistinguish'd house with her
Her sawcy Minion keepes; one Caterer
With aequall price and priviledge dooes buy
Provision for that ill-joyn'd family.
So is their state in all as man and wife
To open view; and for their secret life,
How free the bed has beene, ere long (they say)
Her teeming wombe will to the world betray.
Nor is this all the sieknesse of the time,
Great Edward's honour is ecclips'd by him;
Who long has rul'd the Land, whilest we afrayd
Of that usurped power, perforce obey'd.
And fatall 'twas to contradict at all.
What else so lately caus'd the pity'd fall
Of noble Edmund Earle of Kent, who dy'd
A sacrifice to Mortimer's sterne pride,
And Isabellaes lawlesse power? nor could
(Though Edward's Vncle) his high birth and blood
Protect his life. This haplesse Prince, abus'd
By their delusions, his best meanes had us'd
To helpe (not knowing he before was slaine)
Deposed Edward to the crowne againe.
Ah De la Moore, the wondring people saw
That Prince condemn'd by their tyrannicke law,
Five houres together on a scaffold stand.
Nor all that while found they so base a hand
[Page]That would be hir'd, untill the Sunne was set,
To shed the blood of a Plantagenet.
What neede I speake those treasons, which of late
He wrought for Scotland gainst the English state?
What bribes he thence received, to betray
His Countreys honour? which he now shall pay.
How two yeeres since he drew the Parliament
Held at Northampton then, to give consent
That peace with Scotland should be ratify'd
So prejudiciall to the English side.
In which those famous Rolls, that did containe
Their homage to this Scepter, were againe
Giv'n up; and all those jewels of renowne
And price, that did belong to Scotlands crowne,
And thence by former English Kings were tane,
Were at this peace delivered backe againe.
Which by a marriage was confirm'd; and Ioane
King Edward's sister was bestow'd upon
Young David Bruce, their King. Fates can deferre
No longer now th'account of Mortimer.
Nor dooes our brave young Edward feare to call
The traitour to a tryall; nor shall all
His traine defend him; nor the strength of that
Faire Castle there, in which with wanton state
His beautious Queene and hee their revels keepe;
And there by night securely guarded sleepe.
[Page]Nor can their pride allow (they filling all)
The King a roome within his Castle wall:
A meaner lodging in the towne, alas,
Must serve the King: but ere this night doe passe,
The Castle shall be his againe; and there
Shall rising Phoebus see proud Mortimer
A prisoner, where now he reignes; whilest all
The Land shall wonder at his sudden fall;
Or else the blood that feeds this life, shall flow
Vpon you stained earth: but ere I show
To thee the way that Edward has design'd,
Doe thou relate what yet remaines behind
Of Mortimer's foule crimes, which thou so well
Hast learn'd, which I in part have heard thee tell,
And at each accent passionately sigh,
The late King Edward's ruthfull tragedy.
Though sad the story be, 'twill take up time
Vntill that houre that must revenge the crime
Doe call us hence. Lord Montague had done,
When thus (deepe sighing) De la Moore begun.
`Since you command, my Lord, I will recite,
(Though still I tremble to remember it)
That ruth that never found a parallell,
That story, that no eloqvence can tell
In accents sad enough, no moorning line
Expresse, although the saddest Muse of nine
[Page] Melpomene should search through all her store,
And tune her tragicke lessons ore and ore,
When all those balefull mischiefes she has sought
That barbarous Thrace, that Thebes and Argos wrought,
A sadder story she did nere relate
Then was Carnarvan Edward's tragicke fate.
While this depos'd unhappy Prince remain'd
In Killingworth faire Castle entertain'd
In gentle manner by his kinsman there,
The noble Henry, Earle of Lancaster,
In part he seemed to enjoy content.
(If after losse of Regall government
Content can come) the curteous Earle still showes
Himselfe compassionate of Edward's woes,
And in the noblest manner lessons them;
That he almost could have forgot t'esteeme
Those vaine past glories, if the tyrant Love
Had not in prison found him out, to move
His more disquiet: th'absence of the Queene,
From whose desir'd embraces he had beene
So long divorc'd, dooes now afflict his minde,
That she should prove so cruelly unkinde
To his dejected state, as to deny
Her presence now, which in prosperity,
While crowne and scepter he possest, above
The joyes of scepter or of crowne did love.
Who would beleeve fond love could give a wound
So deepe, as might 'mongst all those woes be found?
He that had lost the glories of a crowne,
And fell from that transcendent honour downe
To fortunes lowest wretched'st step, can he
Be sensible of loves calamity?
'Mongst all his sad distempers, must that be
Praedominant, and greatest malady?
Such is the power, or the unhappy fate
Of love, as deepest felt in wretched state,
So can it crosse the best prosperity,
And soure all other joyes, though nere so high.
The happiest Monarch, that may seeme possest
Of all earths joyes, with wealth, fame, honour blest,
Yet if he want the object that he loves,
No banquets please, no aire of Musicke moves
Delight; he sits uneasie on his throne,
And seemes, in midd'st of his rich court, alone.
How short are sweets of love enjoy'd? how vaine,
Compared to a star-crost lovers paine?
But such in all we are; nor can we so
Esteeme our good, as we can feele our woe.
The best degree of health cannot content
Fraile man so much, as sicknesse can torment.
How oft have they that did associate
This wofull Prince in his dejected state,
[Page]Heard him those amorous passions to disclose,
Though arm'd with patience 'gainst all other woes?
How oft in lamentable notes would he,
Like mourning Orpheus for Eurydice,
Complaine, and move the hearers with his mones,
As Orpheus did the trees and senselesse stones?
But all in vaine, like him; no more was shee
To be recall'd, then was Eurydice.
Oft would he vow how constant he had beene
To his belov'd, but now too cruell Queene;
That never flame had scorch'd him, but from her.
These passions mov'd the Noble Lancaster,
Whose true and gentle soule abhorr'd to see
A love so fervent, and so just, to be
Repay'd with scornefull spight; and to the Queene
He signifies what he had heard and seene.
But what effects in her sterne breast it wrought,
What mischiefes on poore Edwards head it brought
Let them imagine, who did ever know
What mis-led womens wild desires will doe,
When they extremely doe or lust or loath,
Cruell alike, alike unjust in both,
And from their worst desires most hardly chang'd.
Her heart from Edward was too farre estrang'd
To yeild to pitty; for the love shee ow'd
To him, had shee on Mortimer bestow'd.
[Page]And now that wrong that was begun, must be
Made perfect by a greater injury.
Remorse can little in such cases move,
And pitty seldome can engender love.
Now does the faire, but cruell, Queene begin
To thinke what courses may secure her sinne.
And fearing, whilest her husband was alive,
The power of holy Church would make her give
What nuptiall rites were due, to him, since she
Did wed his person, not his dignity,
And must be still wife to his meanest state:
That people would his woes commiserate,
And her brave sonne the King, with all the lawes
Of God and man, would favovr such a cause.
While all these doubts within her breast arise,
She cals (oh partiall▪ counsell) to advise
With her, that wicked Bishop Hereford
The greatest foe to her vnhappy Lord,
With him proud Mortimer, to whom she gave
That beavties use, that Edward ought to have.
Oh what events could be expected there,
When svch the Queene, and such her counsell were?
And first to bring their pollicies to end.
(As for the young King a safety) they pretend
The noble Earle of Lancaster to be
A man unfit for such a charge; that he
[Page]Allow'd him greater freedome then would stand
Well with the peace and quiet of the land;
That daily tumults might arise, whilest he
Remain'd within so loose a custody.
Then by their power the Earle of Lancaster
Is straight discharged of his prisoner,
And to succeede him in that wretched care
The Lord Matrevers, and Lord Berkley are▪
Appointed by the Queenes command; and they
To Berkley Castle carry him away
From Killingworth; but noble Berkley showes
Himselfe compassionate of Edwards woes,
And uses him in more respective wise
Then was allow'd by his sterne enemies.
Lord Berkley therefore is discharged from
His Gaolers office too; and in his roome,
To serue the utmost of their dire entent
Hell findes them out a cursed instrument,
Sir Thomas Gurney, a fit man to be
Ioyn'd with Matrevers in that treachery,
As great a staine to Knighthood, as the base
Matrevers was to honourable race.
These men for flattery and hire could show
More cruelty then hate it selfe would doe,
And so afflict his heart, as Hereford
And Mortimer▪ (perchance) would have abhorr'd,
[Page]If they themselves had seene these monsters foule
Demeanour to him: they torment his soule
With all opprobrious words, all spites that can
Be thought, or throwne upon a wretched man,
In hope to end his life; no rest, no food,
When Edward wish'd to have it, was allow'd,
To make him feele his wretched fall, how low
The man that tumbles from a throne, may goe,
To let him know how great a change the state
Of mortall man may suffer, and what fate,
When she would seeke extremities, can doo.
Instead of Kingly cates they nought allow
But what they know is most distastefull meat;
Instead of rich perfumes and odours fet
From farthest lands to feast a Prince his sent:
These cruell feinds (oh cursed punishment)
Dead carrions round about his lodging strow,
To kill his spirits and stifle nature so.
Instead of Musickes gentle aire, t'invite
Soft sleepe, and charme his senses with delight:
A spitefull Drum was beat, to reave his rest,
And banish sleepe from that afflicted breast.
All which by strength of nature he sustaines,
Preserv'd (alas) to feele more horrid paines.
Why, miscreants, doe you torment him so,
Yet not your owne, but others mischiefes doe?
[Page]Yov in this action are not principall.
While Edward reign'd, he wrong'd not you at all.
His threats, like Hereford, yov did not feare,
Nor court his beavtious Queene like Mortimer.
How base it is for men of name to be
The instruments of others villanie!
Then least some plot for his deliverie
His friends might lay, these Gaolers cunningly
By night would often carry him abroad,
And often change the place of his abode:
First to Corfe Castle, and to Bristow thence▪
Where, when the villaines had intelligence
Some Burgers pitying his aggrievances
Would rescue, and transport him ore the Seas:
They durst no longer in that place detaine
Their wofull prisoner: but backe againe
To Berkley Castle in the dead of night
Remov'd him thence: pale Cynthia lent her light
As if to give some comfort to his way.
Along the Meades, and marish grounds, that lay
By Severnes side, they came: where (oh sad crime
Of fate) another meanes to torture him
The monsters found; for feare some troope might pa [...]
By chance that knew this wofull Prince his face,
And rescue him, his board and haire they meant
To shave away; and for that dire entent
[Page]By Severnes side enforc'd him to alight,
And on the ground to sit: cold was the night;
March then began, and frosts, like pearles, around
Lay glistering on the surface of the ground.
No other water, while they shave their Lord,
Have they, but what the river can afford;
Who seemes from their unhallowed hands to flee,
As loath his pure and christall streame should be
Abused so; that sacred head whereon
The holy oyle was powred forth. Vpon
Whose temples once the royall Diadem
Of England stood, is there prophan'd by them.
That face, where Majesty so lately sat,
Whose frowne the greatest nobles trembled at,
With impious hands doe they disfigure now,
The whilest the waters cold torments him too.
But he with patience armed, or so great
A spirit, as scorn'd such Villaines to entreat,
Vtters no more but thus; yet while you shave,
In spite of you I'll some warme water have:
With that the teares flow'd downe his cheekes amaine
Some servants, that stood by, could not refraine
From melting griefe; but Gurney and the rest
With bitter taunts doe more and more molest
His soule, and all his suffring teares deride.
With reeds and sedge, that grew on Severne side,
[Page]In scorne their Prince his sacred head they crowne;
And whilest with laughter lowly bowing downe
They strive to make sad Edward feele what he
Was once, forget what they themselves should be.
Poore Bischapp then, as Gurney's servant, went
Among the traine (who now apaenitent
With daily teares and sighes from Gods high throne
Dooes begge forgivenesse for what then was done,
And fasting lets his beard and haire to grow
Vnshorne, ere since his Lord was [...]aved so.
This Bischapp saw, my Lord, and told it me
As an eye-witnesse: will posterity
Beleeve this story, that a King (although
Depos'd) from villaines hands could suffer so?
A King, I say, whose wife did then retaine
The power of Regent, and whose Sonne did reigne?
But then to heaven let us turne our eyes,
And thinke, as God is purpos'd to chastise,
So instruments will worke; and Furyes will
Be found to execute the worst of ill.
So much was Edward wrong'd, that now too late
It grew, to pity his afflicted state;
For to secure his foes, his death was sought.
To Berkley Castle he againe was brought,
Vnhappy Berkley damn'd by Fates to be
The balefull stage, where such a tragedy
[Page]Was acted, as no ages that succeed
But shall accurse, no human hearts but bleed
To heare it told: to make his misery
Compleat, the manner of his death must be
Farre worse then death: for, to conceale their owne
Abhorred guilt, and keepe the deed unknowne,
A hellish way the catiffes found at length
To worke the murther, mastring him by strength
A horne they thrust into his fundament,
And through that pipe into his entrailes sent
A burning spit: oh what pathetique tongue
Can tell the paine? his pious soule, whom long
Affictions here had mortify'd, and taught
On heaven alone to fixe his zealous thought,
From forth the hands of that accursed crew
Vp to the glorious quire of Angels flew.
No outward signes of murder did appeare,
And of their skill so confident they were,
That to the peoples open view, a day
The royall coarse in Gloster Abbey lay.
But guilt of conscience, and a sad dismay
Vpon th'offenders seiz'd, nor durst they stay
In England long. Matrevers since has spent
His dayes (they say) a weeping paenitent
In Germany. False Gurney as he crost
The Seas of late, was taken there and lost
[Page]His head, as we have had intelligence,
Too small a vengeance for his foule offence.
The next revenge (oh murder'd Lord) for thee
I hope the fall of Mortimer will be.
And now so farre had their discourses gone,
That day was vanish'd, and the hower drew on,
Which for the Kings designe was set; from whom
A trusted squire to Montague was come
Arm'd, as he was, the youthfull Lord arose,
And forth with courage flew; the like did those
That were alike engag'd: a gallant band
About the person of their Prince they stand.
'Mongst whom brave Edward in rich armour dight
His early manhood showes: with such a bright
Heröike visage dooes the blew-ey'd maide
Appeare, in all her warlike tire arrey'd.
For yet no golden downe had cloath d his chin,
Nor twice nine painted Summers had he seene.
And yet those young, those maid-like frownes, as there
They show'd, the Genius of great France might feare:
Much more in them the sure and present fall
Of guilty Mortimer was read by all.
Farre from-that Castle, on the side of Trent
A Caves darke mouth was found, of deepe descent;
Vpon the brinke of which there grew a round
So close a thicket, as quite hid the ground
[Page]From sight; the Cave could be descry'd by none,
And had remain▪d for many yeeres unknowne;
Whose hollow wombe did farre from thence extend,
And under-ground an uncouth passage lend
Into the Castle. This darke vault was made
To serve the Fort, when Danes did first invade
This fertile Iland; now not thought upon,
For the remembrance, as the use, was gone
Of such a place, untill of late it chanc'd
Sir Robert Holland to that charge advanc'd
Surveying all his Castles nookes, had try'd
That horrid way, and closely certify'd
The King the truth of all: with store of light
The noble troope arrived there by night;
There voyd of feare into the darke descent
With his brave traine Heröicke Edward went,
And through the ragged entrailes of the Cave
And balefull paths did fierce Rhamnusia wave
Here flaming brand, to guide their passage right,
And vanquish all the terrours of the night.
No damps, no noisome stinkes their sense invade;
Rhamnusia's power expell'd them all, and made
Her Champions passe with fresh and spritely cheare,
Those mouldy vaults, and ayre unstirred, where
So many yeeres no humane foot had trode,
Nor living thing but toades and batts abode.
[Page]Yet full of hazard did th'attempt appeare,
So great a traine had pompous Mortimer.
But they secure of any danger nigh
Within the Castle some in jollity
Consum'd that hower of night, and some in sleepe,
(For th'Earle himselfe the Castle keyes did keepe.)
In such a fearelesse, but a fatall plight
The wodden horse surpris'd old Troy by night.
Into her chamber the faire Queene was gone,
Where with her Minion Mortimer alone
She sate: but not his dearest company,
Nor loves sweet thoughts, which wont to give so high
A rellish to them, now could bring delight.
They both were sad on that portentuous night.
(The fates it seem'd into their soules had sent
A secret notice of their dire entent)
Which she could not conceale, nor Mortimer,
Although he often strove by courting her,
To hide the inward sadnesse of his br [...]st.
Carnarvan Edward's Manes had possest
The roome; and many strange ostents declar'd
Th'approaching ruine: in the Castle-yard
The dogges were heard unusually to howle:
About their windowes the ill-boding Owle,
Night-iars, and shreiches with wide-stretched throats
From Yews and Holleys sent their baiefull notes.
[Page]And which encreast their sad and ominous feares)
The beautious Queene relates, while standing teares
Began to dazle her bright starry eyes,
That ghastly dreame, that did last night surprise
Her frighted fancy; Mortioner, quoth she,
Me thought the skye was wondrous cleare, when we
Together walk'd in yonder court alone;
The gentle aire seem'd undisturb'd: anone
Rose sudden stormes, a darke and pitchie cloud
Obscur'd heaven's face, and thunder roar'd aloud:
The trembling earth about us moved round,
At last it open'd, and from under-ground
Rose Edward's pale and dismall ghost, his hand
Arm'd with a flaming sword, a threatning band
Of furies did upon the ghost attend:
Hee cry'd revenge; with that they all gan bend
Their force 'gainstus, and thee, me thought, they flew:
At which I frighted wak'd, and hardly knew
(So great the terrour was) whether we were
Alive or not: Ambitious Mortimer
Scorning to show from any dreame a feare,
Strove to divert so sad a theame, and cheare
The Queene with amorous discourse againe.
While thus he flatters his owne fate in vaine:
A boistrous noise about the doores they heare;
The maids without, that waited, shreik'd for feare,
[Page]Clashing of steele, and grones of dying men
Approach d their cares: for in the Lobby then
Stout Turrington and Nevil both were slaine,
That durst by force resist the armed traine:
And in the chamber, ere the Queene and he
Had time to doubt what this strange storme should be,
Sent from the King the armed troopes appeare,
By whose command they seize on Mortimer;
And in an instant hurry him away:
(For at the Chamber-doore did Edward stay)
The wofull Queene at first amazed stands;
But quickly recollected wrings her hands,
Strikes her faire breast, and after them she hyes
To the next Lobby, weepes, and kneeling cryes,
Deere Sonne (for well she knew her Son was there)
Oh pitty, pitty gentle Mortimer.
Let no accusers raise thine anger so;
Nor wicked counsell make thee prove a foe
To him that well deserves: oh pull not downe
So true, so strong a pillar of thy crowne.
But when she sees him gone, and no reply
Vouchsaf'd to her (for Edwards modesty,
Because his justice her fond suite denyde,
For feare his tongue should be enforc'd to chide
A mothers crime or folly, words forbeares)
A griefe too great to be exprest by teares
[Page]Confounds her sense; as in an extasie
She fals to ground, and helplesse seemes to lye,
Vntill the maids and Ladies of her traine
Had to her chamber borne her backe againe.
The Castle wholly to the King's command
Is now reduc'd, and to his royall hand
The keyes deliver'd up: nor dooes he feare
The great and pompous traine of Mortimer;
They soone submitted when their Lord was taine.
And here seemes Edward to begin his reigne;
Henceforth his regall power, his treasury
Shall be his owne; those rayes of Majesty
A subjects greatnesse shall ecclipse no more;
Nor shall the Land a blazing-star adore
Instead of true-borne Phoebus: and thus farre
The tragaedy of this great Mortimer
Faire Nottingham began, and op'd the way:
What now remaines another place must play:
The scoene from thence to London is remov'd;
Where more foule treasons are against him prov'd,
More debts then one condemned head could be,
Or single life enough to satisfie;
Had not th' opprobrious manner of his fate,
And that proud height, that pinnacle of state,
From whence the peoples late astonish'd eyes
Had seene him star-like shoot (as from the skyes
[Page]Ambitious Phaëton was dinged downe
By Ioves revengefull thunder) fully showne
With what proportion powerfull Iustice can
Redeeme her selfe against the greatest man:
And that there's no such envy'd height at all,
But she can make it pity'd by a fall.
And now the common Gallowes is the place,
Where this great Lord with shame must end his race
On earth: and twice did rising Phoebus there
Behold the body of dead Mortimer
To all a scorned spectacle remaine.
But yet thus much thy memory shall gaine
Of great and tragicke fame, that all shall say
A stranger game did Fortune never play.
And whensoere that fickle goddesse glories
In her proud sportive trophees; when the stories
Of her most envy'd favovrites are told,
Who next to Kings and Emperours did hold
The Helme, and keepe the neerest roomes in state:
When Plavtianus greatnesse we relate
With his so sudden ruine: when we tell
How once great Romes ador'd Sejanus fell:
Or how Ruffinus torne and mangled dy'd
In all the height of his ambitious pride:
Among those names shalt thou in times to come
Great Mortimer, fill up a tragicke roome,
[Page]And in thy story, like to them, shalt be
A Document to all posterity.

Annotations upon the first Booke.

a About the fift yeere of King Edward the second his reigne, that renowned King of Scotland Robert le Bruce having now over-mastred the opposite faction in his owne Nation, and driven out all the English Garrisons left there in possession by Edward the first, had wholly recovered his Kingdome of Scotland; and not so contented, had much endammaged, by often inrodes, the Realme of England. To take revenge of him, Edward the second with a won­derfull great and rich English army, containing about 80000. invadeth Scotland in his owne person, at a place called Bannocks bourne it came to a battell; where the English are discomfited with as great an ouer-throw as e­ver they received in any field: sixe of their greatest No­blemen slaine, about 700. Knights and gentlemen of ac­count, besides many noble prisoners taken: about the num­ber of common souldiers slaine, the Authors of that time (whether misinformed or partiall) most wretchedly disa­gree, some accounting 10000. some 50000. but how great so ever the number were, no revenge was taken during the [Page] whole reigne of Edward the second; but the kingdome of England in many ensuing actions suffred much from the hands of Robert le Bruce: the fortune of war running all on that side while he lived.

b While deposed Edward was miserably murdered in Berkley Castle, the young King was upon the borders of Scotland with a puissant army: and having environed the Scots (who had entred England with invasive armes) in the woods of Wiredale and Stanhop parke, and stopped up all passages, made sure account of victory: but by the trea­son of the Lord Mortimer (for which hee was afterwards among other things accused and condemned) after they had lodged there fifteene dayes, and began to feele much want, they were suffred to escape: and the young King lost his first enterprise, besides the expence of much treasure, and a wonderfull danger of his owne person: for Sir Iames Douglas, a valiant servant of King Robert le Bruce, with 200. light horses assailed the Kings owne pavilion, where the King was so neere death, that a Chaplaine of his, who stoutly behaved himselfe, was slaine in his Masters de­fence; and Sir Iames retired from thence with safety.

c All the Authors of that time doe generally agree concerning the greatnesse of Roger Mortimer, his power in state, his pompous attendance, and haughty carriage of all businesse; as likewise the greatnesse of the Queenes Dower, and her familiarity with that Lord: which of­fending [Page] (as needs it must) the rest of the Nobilitie, I thought it not so fit to be barely related in the Authors person, as by the way of speech to proceed angerly from the mouth of that brave Lord Mountague, who was, by the consent of those writers, a speciall assistant to King Edward in the surprising of Mortimer: and such parti­culars as concerne the lamentable murther of that depo­sed King, to proceed from his servant Sir Thomas de la Moore, who accordingly wrote the story of it.

THE REIGNE OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.
The second Booke.

Argument II.
King Edward's homage to the King of France.
He claimes that Crowne: his friends and puissance.
Sicilia's King fore-tels the misery
Of France. King Edwards Navall victory.
NOt yet had Edward in his active minde
The claime and conquest of great France design'd,
Nor look'd abroad: domesticke businesse
Employ'd his early manhood; the redresse
Of those distempers which had growne at home,
Too great for any youth to over-come
[Page]But such a youth as his, had yet detain'd
His spirit there; when Fate, that had ordain'd
Through fire and sword the miseries of France,
Finds out a meanes to wake the puissance
Of this victorious Prince, and make him know
That fatall title that had slept till now.
Philip of France but newly crown'd, and not
Content in rest to hold what he had got
Vpon a doubted title, nor abate
The least and strictest circumstance of state,
Which might belong to that high crowne he wore,
In punctuall manner summons Edward ore,
For Guyennes Dukedome, which he held, to doe
His personall homage; nor did Edward, though
Fill'd with disdaine and manly rage, refuse
To come: faire Amiens is the place they chuse;
In whose Cathedrall Church King Philip sate.
Oh who can tell what pompe and wondrous state
Was show'd at this so great solemnity:
How many noble Peeres and Princes, high
In blood and fame, did there attendance give;
And in their best attires and lustres strive
To grace the crowne of France and Philips state.
Vnder a wealthy Canopy he sate,
His roabe of colour like the violet
With golden flower de luces all beset
[Page]With crowned head and scepter'd hand, to take
That low obeisance th'English King should make:
The Kings of Boheme and Navarre were by
Plac'd as spectators of his dignity.
Vnhappy Philip, boast not this vaine state,
Which bleeding France shall buy at dearest rate.
Why doost thou fondly show to Edwards eyes
That wealth, that must hereafter be his prize?
And by those gorgeous splendours, teach so great
A spirit as his, what value he should set
Vpon thy Kingdomes conquest? those thy Peeres,
That proudly face him now, ere many yeeres
Doe turne againe, shall in their ruine be
Sad monuments of Edward's victory.
And mourning see, though now he seeme to low,
His reall honour in thine overthrow.
Bohemia's King (oh ominous) whose eye
This shadow sees of Philip's dignity,
In Philip's fall a tragicke part must play,
And as a trophee to remaine for aye,
To Edward's conquering hands must dying yeeld
His glittering plume in Cressyes fatall field.
The English King to Philip's royall seat
Makes faire approach, attended with a great
And gallant traine of Peeres, whose bright array
The wealth and pompe of England did display.
[Page]A gowne of crimson Velvet Edward wore
With golden Leopards all embroider'd ore.
His well-becomming sword was guirded on,
And spurs of gold about his anckles shone;
Vpon his head stood Englands diadem:
And such did his Heroicke presence seeme,
As in the French mens hearts, although that there
He came with peace, did strike a silent feare.
So much unlike his Princely lookes did show
To that low action that he came to doo.
Thus comming before Philip's chaire he stands;
Melun the Chamberlaine of France commands
To doffe his royall Crowne, his Spurs and Sword,
And bids him kneele to Philip, as the Lord
Supreme of all those Aquitanian lands;
Then twixt King Philip's puts King Edward's hands,
Declaring the Oath; then Edward gives a kisse
To Philip sitting, as the manner is.
The King of France rejoycing in this vaine
Shadow of Majesty, to entertaine
His royall Leigeman makes a sumptuous feast.
Put deepe in Edwards young, and fiery breast
Remaines the thought of this indignity;
Which, though a while it smoother'd seeme to lye,
Breakes out in such a flame, as long in vaine
The neighbour Princes strive to quench againe,
[Page]Vntill Revenge had given to France as sad
And great a wound as ere that Kingdome had.
But to attempt the conquest of so great,
So populous a land as France, and set
The title that he had on foot, requir'd
Strong preparations: the young King retir'd
To England, in his eager thoughts revolues
This weighty cause; and though the great resolves
Of his undaunted spirit ore-master all
The difficulties, that were like to fall:
Yet fitting time must be allow'd, to make
Confaederacies of import, and take
Faire opportunities. The fates afford
Occasions straight to flesh his conquering sword
In Scotland wounds; whose miseries must be
The prologue to great France her tragaedy.
Ballioll unhappy to his nation,
Was now return'd to challenge Scotlands crowne,
(While young King David did abide in France)
Which soone he gain'd by Edward's puissance.
Whose prosperous valour, first at Berwicke towne,
Then in that fam'd defeat at a Halidowne,
In which so many valiant Scots were slaine,
Appear'd; and seem'd to quit that blow againe,
Which, whilest his father second Edward reign'd,
England from Bruce his warlike hand sustain'd.
Enough had these victorious warres declar'd
Great Edward's prowesse, and enough prepar'd
His martiall thoughts for France; when Fates conspire
To bring fresh fuell to this raging fire.
For discontented from his native home
To England b Robert of Artois was come,
His Countries fire-brand, one that well had learn'd
King Edward's minde, and well his spirit discern'd▪
So doe the peoples shouts encourage more
A fierce Olimpicke Steede, that strove before
To force the lists, and breake th opposing bars:
As this young fiery King too prone to wars
Before, is now by his incitements mov'd.
So 'gainst his Rome bold Curio's language prov'd,
When with the Tribunes banish'd, he was come
To armed Caesar at Ariminum.
Curio by death prevented could not see
What he had wrought, his Countries misery;
Whose slaughter'd carcasse strew'd the field, a prey
To Lybian birds, before that tragicke day
His Caesar conquer'd on Pharsaliaes plaines.
How like a fate for thee, Artois, remaines?
Thou shalt not see thy Countries greatest woe,
Nor Edward's bayes in Philip's overthrow.
Thy death shall first in Britaines warres be wrought
Before that Crescyes mortall field be fought:
[Page]And ere that Poictiers wondrous battell fame
Blacke Edwards sword, be nothing but a name
As much by France accurs'd in times to come,
As Curio his by his afflicted Rome.
This stirring Frenchman Edward joyes to see,
And honours him with Richmonds signiory.
Then ore the Seas to Antwerpe, to provide
Confederacies to support his side,
He sailes in person with his Queene and Sonne;
Where what Queene Philips father had begun
(The noble William Heinaults Earle, to draw
Those German Dukes to his great sonne in law)
King Edward's royall presence in their land
Soone brings to passe: the Dukes of Gelderland
And Brabant joyne with him: and to his side
The potent Flemmings too (though strongly ty'd
By oath and obligation to the Crowne
Of France) by c Iames of Artevile are won▪
Nor were their oathes and obligations broke;
For noble Edward, to preserve them, tooke
Vpon himselfe the style and armes of France,
And on his royall Standard did advance
The Flower deleces: thence he past the Rhine,
And there with speed did to his party joyne
The potent Prelate, that did then the land
Of Agrippina's Colony command
[Page]There did Bavarian Lewis the Emperour
Bestow on Edward, more to same his power,
An office high, creating him ore all
The Roman Empire Vicar generall.
Though soone unconstant Lewis did revoke
That grant; and to his owne dishonour tooke
The side of France; that men might after know
By Edward's conquest, Philip's overthrow,
That Lewis the Roman Emperour could be
Nor usefull friend, nor hurtfull enemy.
No lesse doos Philip labour to advance
His strength by leagues; and to his wealthy France
The power of many forraine Princes draw:
With him the two great Dukes of Austria,
And the old warlike King of Boheme joyne,
With Cassimere th▪ Elector Palatine:
And in this heat on either side too soone
By little sparkles is the fire begun.
Pope Benedict, now summers gawdy pride
Had his belov d Avignion beavtify d,
With all the Court resided there to whom
Those Lords that saught the peace of Christendome
(Which as they justly fear d, would by the warre
Of these two Monarchs be engag'd too farre)
Resorted thither daily to complaine.
The Pope himselfe was griev'd that he in vaine
[Page]Had by his Legates often striv'd of late
To reconcile the Kings: that fresh debate
Was nourish'd daily, and that either Land
Had felt already warres ungentle hand:
That Philip's royall Navy, which had beene
Prepar'd for pious wars in Palaestine
To free th'afflicted Christians of the East,
Was now so ill diverted, to infest
The shores of England: sometimes would he chide
King Edwards heat, and too ambitious pride
That durst make such a claime, or hope at all
That he could conquer with a strength so small
So great a land, so rich a crowne, from one
That had already firme possession:
Sometimes againe would he expostulate
'Gainst Philip's punctuall and vainglorious state,
That Edward's strictest homage would require,
And tease a spirit active as the fire.
One Prince in vertue, as in honour, high
Robert the learned King of Sicily
Was then in person at Avignion.
Whose skill, discerning every motion
Aspect, and powerfull influence of the starres,
Foresaw th event of these so tragicke warres,
And wail'd the woes that France would suffer thence.
Of that the Pope desir'd intelligence.
[Page]About his chaire the revered Colledge sate;
By whom the King was plac'd in fitting state.
When thus the Pope bespake him; Royall Sonne,
Since well we know your good intention,
And can no lesse commend your pious will
To end these warres, then we admire that skill,
By which your noble soules delighted eye
Takes wise survey of all the starry skye;
And in that glorious booke the future fates
Of men can read, and change of greatest states:
And shall we thinke the stars would ever show
What shall betide mortality, if now
They would be silent in so great a warre,
(If this great warre proceed) that doos so farre
Engage the shaken state of Christendome,
And looke so full of tragicke threats? on whom,
If they neglect a state so eminent
As France or England, can they be intent?
Vnto our cares declare, renowned d King,
What strange effects these stars are like to bring▪
For we allow that Christian use may be
Made of praedictions by Astrology.
Let dim-ey'd heathens count it double woe
When future fates they are enforc'd to know,
Who thinke the stars no higher power obey,
And judgements unavoidable, which they
[Page]Denounce 'gainst mortall men; which when they heare,
Their hopes are fled, and they can onely feare.
But we, that worship his eternall name,
That rules the stars, that heaven and earth did frame,
Have learn'd, that though their usuall vertue guide
The state of earth, and show what shall betide
(Beyond controll of Nature) certaine still:
It is not certaine 'gainst his sacred will.
If not 'gainst him, then why should we despaire?
It is not certaine 'gainst a Christians prayer.
That sacred charme has power to thwart the law
Which constant Nature strives to keepe, to draw
The moving stars ont of their wonted way,
And in the height of his carriere to stay
The glorious Sunne himselfe; which once was done,
When noble Ioshuah fought in Gibeon:
As afterward he was enforc'd to take
A backward course for Hezekiah's sake.
In vaine a cause of this great wonder wrought
Chaldaeaes wise Astrologers had sought
To finde by Art; for all Arts uselesse prov'd
Vntill the great Assyrian Monarch mov'd
His servants sent to Hezekiah's land.
The powerfull working of so great a hand
None but inspired Prophets could descry,
No Oracle but Iuda's Deiry.
[Page]We therefore may beleeve no starres portent
Is sure against a Christian paenitent.
Nay more, if paenitence have oft controll'd
Those doomes, which sacred Prophets have foretold,
And could reverse the Lord's severe decree
Denounc'd by Ionas 'gainst great Ninivee:
It well may thwart what ere the heavens portend.
But happy are those threats, when they amend
The sinfull world (made usefull so) to be
A wholesome cure, and not a malady.
Be therefore pleased, learned Prince to show
To us what Kingdomes are most threatned now.
King Robert sigh'd, since, holy Sir (quoth he)
Yov have beene pleas'd to grace Astrology,
And tell her Christian uses, I shall now
My good entents with greater freedome show.
But when I speake of this ensuing warre,
Expect no actions in particular:
Too dim an eye have we Astrologers
Too generall to search out those; the stars
Distinctly cannot future things decree,
Or mens fraile skill exactly cannot see.
Inspired Prophets onely that can finde,
Allow'd to speake their great Creators minde.
Whose eye of Providence counts nothing small,
As to his power is nothing great at all.
[Page]But thus we finde; if this sad warre proceed,
So much, so long unhappy France shall bleed,
Th' enfeebled Kingdome shall expire, or neere
To utter ruine grow; full fourescore yeere
This blacke and balefull influence shall last.
Recount, oh France, thy former woes, what wast
The conquering Romans made, what blood so ere
The Frankes drew from thee, to inhabite here,
Or when fierce Rollo with his Danish flood
Broke in upon thee: to this sea of blood
'Tis small; and weigh'd with conquering Englands wars,
Shall be accounted slight and gentle scars.
Deepe, as thy wounds, shall thy dishonour be.
Alas, how great a map of misery,
How long a tragicke field of warre shalt thou
Rich France become? the pride of Europe now,
But then the pitty of all neighbour Lands?
Oh doe not scorne at English Edward's hands
On hardest termes a peace to entertaine;
Nor let King Philip strive 'gainst fate in vaine.
No force can there prevaile, nor overthrow
The Martiall fame that Destinies doe owe
To Edward's high nativity, for whom
A glorious thread is spun, such as their loome
Was proud to see, when those old Worthies came
Into the world, that with so loud a fame
[Page]Have fill'd the eares of all posterity.
Such shall this active Edward prove; as high
And wondred at, shall be his deeds of warre,
Although his stage cannot extend so farre,
Nor his small Kingdomes forces over-run
Farre distant Lands, as did the Macedon,
Or Romes proud Sonnes: his deeds within the bounds
Of France (excepting Scotlands fatall wounds)
As mighty trophees, and as great shall gaine
As such a circuit ever did containe.
And for the severall actions of his warres
(Though I but dimly see particulars)
Within this spacious Continent, where once
Great Caesar govern'd those stout legions,
Whose strength could after over-come the power
Of Rome it selfe, and make him Emperour,
Let disadvantages of battels be
Well weigh'd, the past and present quality
Of such a foe; the stars to him do give
As true a fame as Caesar did atchieve.
But such calamities this heart will bleed
To see; and therefore, holy Sir, with speed
(If a prevention can at all be had)
Let your high power be interposed: sad
Are all that heare the King's praediction,
And thinke which way they may the strife attone:
[Page]But while they thinke, thus on the Ocean
A mighty blow this fatall warre began.
Slight skirmishes had wounded either side,
And banish'd Peace: nor must the cause be try'd
By any judge but Warres uncertaine chance.
Edward already wore the armes of France,
And in his honour stood engag'd to gaine
The Crowne he claim'd, as Philip to maintaine
That great possession: in their owne estates
Both strong; both powerfull in confoederates,
And both alike incens'd. But ere rich France
In her owne bosome try the puissance
Of warlike Edward, she must weeping heare
Her losses by him, and be taught to feare:
Or Fortune else was purpos'd to declare
How hot, how aequall a desire of warre
Both Nations had, that in the middle way
Would meet the tryall, and disdain'd to stay
Till either other should at home invade;
But with their armed Navall forces, made
Blew Neptunes face the first discolour'd stage
Of warre, and Scene of their incensed rage.
The Fleet of France, so great it was esteem'd
Invindible by Englands force, and seem'd
To beare command ore all those narrow Seas,
Proud of spoiles and wealthy pillages
[Page]Which from sack'd Hampton they had brought away,
Betweene the Ports of Sluce and Blankebergh lay
In three faire bodies, led by three, that then
In navall fights were held the bravest men
France had, and did in all Sea-arts excell,
The stout Bahuchet with brave Kiriell,
And Barbenoire the Genois Admirall.
So show'd their Navy, when conjoyned all,
Men would have thought some forrest mou'd from far,
When Winters rage the Pines proud tops did bare,
Or that the fam'd Aegaean Cyclades
Torne from their roots, had floated on the Seas.
Vpon that coast this haplesse Navie lay
To intercept King Edward in his way
To Sluce; who now from England had put forth.
His Fleet, though lesse in number, yet in worth,
Fortune and courage greater then the foes,
Came sailing on. When golden Phoebus rose
Behinde the French, and shooting forth his light
Display'd the English Navy to their sight.
The royall Banners to their scouts appeare,
And notice give that Englands King is there.
At which the French are swelled with excesse
Of joy, though false, with golden promises
Flattring themselves. (How blinde are humane eyes!
How hidden are the path of Destinies!)
[Page]Never did wretches not ordain'd to see
The setting Sunne, with vainer jollity
Welcome their ruine, and each other cheere.
They thanke the fates, that had presented there
The King of Englands person, and so great
A price that day had on their valour set.
That this great storme, that proudly threatned France,
Was now committed wholly to the chance
Of their Sea-fight: that onely they should have
The actions honour, not alone to save
Their land in warre; but keepe it from a warre,
And cut off danger ere it came so farre.
Great Edward slowly brings his Navy on,
Waiting advantage wisely, till the Sunne
Declining Westward at his backe might be,
And dazle thence the face of th'enemy.
Although his Souldiers hardly brook'd delay;
So much they long'd for tryall of the day:
And in their courages were raised high,
To thinke they had so brave a witnesse by
As was their King, and such a King as he,
Who would as well their great example be
As witnesse of their deeds. This time of stay
He spent, to set his Fleet in faire array.
The middle body he himselfe maintain'd,
In which the great and tallest ships were mann'd,
[Page]Which choisest Archers held: twixt every two
Of whom, one ship with men of armes did goe.
On either wing loose ships of archers lay,
On all occasions 'gainst the foe to play.
The wings themselves with gallant Lords were fill'd:
The Earles of Darby, Pembrooke, Gloster held
The right, where Huntington commanded all,
Of Englands Southerne fleet Lord Admirall.
Lord Morley Admirall of all the North
The left wing had, with many Lords of worth:
Northamptons Earle, Lord Percy, Delaware,
And Robert of Artois, who th'honours bore
Of Richmonds Earledome then, with many moe
Of honour'd name and noble service too.
Heröicke Edward, when both Navies neere
Had made approach, 'gan thus in short to cheere
His forward Souldiers; It were needlesse now
Brave Englishmen, and valiant Lords, to show
How much depends on this great Navall fight;
That all the tryall of our royall right
To France, and your rich hopes are lost: undone
Are all designes, unlesse this day be won.
This is the gate of our great enterprise:
This is that entrance where the danger lyes;
Which if we master now, the future war
Will prove more easie, as more fruitfull farre:
[Page]And not a warre, but a reward will be,
And recompence of this dayes victory.
Here let your valour sway warres future chance,
And, though not conquer, yet disharten France.
The Sunne and winde are both auspicious
To us, the channell advantagious.
With these let us in our owne cause appeare.
See what spectatours fortune gives us here.
Oh let our friends the Flemmings from the Bayes
Of Sluce and Blankebergh now behold and praise
Your deeds, and viewing th English puissance,
Thinke themselves happy in forsaking France
To side with us: but I in vaine prolong
The battels tryall, and your valours wrong
To keepe such eager spirits from action.
On then brave Souldiers: Scarse had Edward done,
When the bold English archers with a flight
Of winged shafts begin the mortall fight.
The Crossebowes answer from the Frenchmens side;
And through the ayre dooes Death in triumph ride
Twixt both the fleets, while stormes of arrowes flye,
And with a fatall darknesse cloud the skye.
All noise of tacklings, and shrill trumpets sound
Is by the lovder shouts of souldiers drown'd,
That wound the ayre; whose strong concussions make
The hollow parts of Sluce and Blankebergh shake,
[Page]And strike with terrour Englands Easterne shore.
Nere did blew Neptune on those seas before
Behold so great, so tragicall a fight.
Oh fates, why was not all great Edward's right
To France, in this one Navall fury try'd?
But if the mourning land must bleede beside
In horrid wounds, if Crescyes mortall day,
And Poictiers field could not be wip'd away
From th'adamantine booke of Destiny▪
But uncontroll'd must there remaine, oh why
Was not this Sea-fight spared? why in vaine
Did so much slaughter the sad Ocean staine?
The worlds imperiall wreath was won and lost
With farre lesse blood then this dayes tryall cost
At Leucas battell, whence Antonius, head
Of halfe the world, with Cleopatra fled.
Lesse slaughter there covld that high quarrell try
Then here could purchase Edward's victory.
Nor yet, alas, can this so cruell fight
Determine all, or stablish Edward's right.
By so much blood that Kingdome is not won,
Nor this great warre concluded, but begun.
Nor now did bowes alone maintaine the warre,
Or barbed shafts bestowing wounds from farre.
More close together their sterne fury meets,
And with each other grapple both the Fleets,
[Page]With iron hookes and chaines to draw more nigh
Vnto themselves their owne sad destiny.
The sword acts freely there; and hand to hand,
Whilest firmely linked both the Navies stand,
And without distance cover th Ocean ore.
Short pikes and bils encountring make a sore
And mortall fight; no hopes of flight at all.
Vpon the decks the slaughter'd bodies fall
In heapes together; some ore boord are throwne,
And twixt the grapling ships fall dying downe,
As if they strove againe to seperate
What was conjoyned by so bad a fate.
Nor did the blood that streamed downe apace,
No more then onely staine blew Neptune's face:
But on the top that aëry liquour swam,
And by it selfe a crimson sea became,
And oft to dying men prov'd mortall too,
Anticipating what the sea would doo,
When some, that downe the ships alive are cast,
Are choak'd in blood, ere they the water tast.
A gallant English ship, the Christopher,
That had beene taken by the French that yeere,
Now in the front was placed, bravely mann'd,
As if to let the English understand,
And grieve for what they had so lately lost.
But deere the French must pay for such a boast.
[Page]The sight of her dooes not dismay, but whet
The English courages, who strive to get
That ship againe: her they in fight auaile
With greatest fury, and at last prevaile.
They boord the Christopher; the French are kill'd,
And she againe with English souldiers fill'd.
Who now more fiercely fights, as if to be
Revenged for her late captivity.
Another warlike English ship, that bore
The name of Edward, and the yeere before
Had from Southampton (like the Christopher)
Beene taken by the French, was fighting there.
'Gainst her the Christopher with fury came.
Two sister-ships of aequall strength, of frame
Alike they shew'd; no vantage was in ought,
Vnlesse that here the French, there th'English fought:
They joyne, and grapple with each other close;
The sword acts all; for uselesse are their bowes,
And no roome left at all for arrowes flight.
'Twixt no two vessels was so sterne a fight;
Nor English ships so fiercely French invade
As was the fight, which these, both English, made.
So hostile soules, when they imprison'd are
In kindred bodies, make the sharpest warre.
With greatest spleene the Theban brothers fought,
No Argive souldier 'gainst a Theban brought
[Page]Such perfect hate, as twixt the fruit of one
Divided wombe was in that combat showne.
Long was the fight 'twixt these two vessels ty'd
Ere doubting fate the conquest could decide
At last the English prowesse dooes appeare;
The Edward's boorded by the Christopher,
(The French within her all captiv'd or slaine)
And to their Nation both restor d againe.
The English Souldiers lesse in number are,
But free, and wider on the Ocean farre
Have roome to stretch their wings, & keep them even:
Into the havens straits the French are driven,
And so unhappily encumber'd there
They cannot helpe themselves; the Marriner
Wants Sea-roome to employ his skill aright,
The Souldier freedome to maintaine his fight.
No part of all the fleet of France was free
From this encumbrance and perplexity
But that which Barbenoire of Genoa
Commanded; he that danger well foresaw,
And from the haven, when the fight began,
To gaine the freedome of the Ocean,
Brought out his ships the rest a haplesse prey
Vnto their foes, together crowded lay;
That now it seem'd the Sunne, the winde, and tide
Did all assist victorious Edward▪s side.
[Page]Yet stroveth'unhappy French to sell as deere
Their lives as that strait place would suffer there:
With flaming brand the fierce Enyo flew
Ore both their heads, and great the slaughter grew.
Oh what unw [...]aried Muse has time to show
How many soules fled to the shades below?
Or each Plebeian tragedy to tell?
Scarse can we thine renowned Kiriell,
Who in the heat of all wert gladly slaine
Asham'd to see thy native France againe.
With thee the flower of all thy Captaines fall
To wait upon their dying Admirall.
Meane while the valiant English Lords divide
Their dreadfull forces, and on every side
Assaile the wretched Frenchmen; here come on
The Earles of Derby, Pembrooke, Huntington:
There Morley, Percy, Deleware invade,
And sterne D'artois distaines his vengefull blade
In wounds of bleeding France: 'mongst whom as high
In prowesse as imperiall Majesty
Like Mars himselfe, Heröicke Edward goes;
Whose armed presence quels the fainting foes.
He worst of danger dar'd; while by the side
Of such a Prince his valiant servants dy'd,
Stout Poinings, Butler, noble Latimer
Before his eyes were slaine: but wondrous deare
[Page]Th'unhappy French did for their slaughter pay▪
For every English ghost that mortall day,
Ten ghosts of France fled to the shades below.
Nor in the heat of fight could th'English know
How great a wrack their conquering swords had made▪
The James of Deepe, a mighty ship, that had
Endur'd so long the shocke of hottest fight,
And never seem'd to faint at all, when night
Gan now approach, was by the English tane:
In which Death's treasure onely did remaine.
Foure hundred slaughtred carcasses in her
They found, and by that tragicke token there
Perceiv'd how deepe a wound their armes had given.
Now all the other ships, that had beene driven
Into the havens straits, were sunke, or there
Surprised by the English Conquerer.
When Barbenoire, who not enclos'd at all
Had Sea-roome left, perceiv'd how great a fall
His side sustein'd, in sorrow and dismay
Bewailing France, and cursing that sad day
He tack'd about, to be in safety gone;
But by the warlike Earle of Huntington
The Southerne Admirall, so sore was chas'd
And hard-beset, he was enforc'd at last
By secret flight almost alone to goe
A sad reporter of so great a blow.
Blacke night now challeng'd her alternate reigne,
S [...] soone enough to hide that tragicke staine
Which on the blushing face of Neptune lay:
Not soone enough to part the mortall fray.
Warres raging fire was spent, the fuell gone,
And all that Mars could doe, already done.
Nor would great Edward then approach the shore▪
But make the Oceans bosome, which before
Had beene the stage of his victorious fight,
To be his lodging field; whilest all the night
Drums beat, and Trumpets to the havens nigh
Proclaime his great and noble victory.
But when the rosie morning gan appeare,
With joy to welcome his arrivall there
The towne of Sluce prepares, while all along
The haven people numberlesse doe throng
To view the face of that Heroicke King,
And all the shores with acclamations ring.
At last great Edward lands, and waited on
By all the noblest Burgers of the towne,
And English Lords, in triumph takes his way
To Gaunt, where his belov d Queene Philip lay.
With such expressions of true state and love
Did white-arm'd Iuno meet triumphant Iove
When from the Gyants warres he came, as she
Her Lord return'd from this great victory.
[Page]With her at Gaunt remain'd the greatest States
Of Netherland, and best confoederates
King Edward had for his great warre in hand.
The Dukes of Brabant, and of Gelderland,
With Heinaults Earle his comming did attend,
And Iames of Artevile his constant friend,
Whose power had drawne those people to his side▪
There all their leagves are firmely ratifi'd;
While happy Gaunt is proud to entertaine
So brave a Monarch with his noble traine:
But much more proud that she had beene the place
Of birth to one faire branch of Edward's race
Young princely Iohn, who thence shall take his name,
And lend the towne, in liev, eternall fame.

Annotations upon the second Booke.

a This great battell of Halydon hill, a place neere Ber­wick, was tought in the sixt yeere of the reigne of King Ed­ward the third of England, and the second of King David of Scotland; who being then a childe remained in France, and Archimbald Dowglas Earle of Argus governed the realme of Scotland for him: the English army was led by King Edward himselfe in person: that of Scotland by the [Page] forenamed Earle of Angus Regent of the Kingdome: in this battell the Scots received a great overthrow, although the writers of those times doe much disagree about the number of those that perished in the vanquished army: the Scottish Histories allowing foureteene thousand, the English naming aboue thirty thousand, but howsoever it were, by this victory Berwicke was gained to the Crowne of England.

b This Robert of Artois was a Prince of the blood of France, descended from Robert Sonne to Lewis the eight; there had beene a suit betwixt the said Robert and Maud his Aunt, Countesse of Burgundy, about the Earledome of Artois. Robert presuming upon his owne power, and the service he had done King Philip in advancing him to the Crowne (for Robert of Artois was at the first a great maintainer of Philips title against Edward of England) forges a deed, thereby to overthrow his Aunts right; which being afterwards discovered, made her right the more, and moved the French King to give judgement on her side, so that the County of Artois was by Parliament confirmed upon Maud; which so offended Robert, as in his rage he openly said hee would unmake the King by the same power that he had made him. This rash threatning so incensed the King, that he presently layed to apprehend him; but failing therein, he proclaimed him Traitour, confiscated his estate, forbidding all his Subjects to receive [Page] or aide him. Robert of Arto is being thus distressed comes over into England, is joyfully entertained by King Ed­ward, made of his Councell, and invested in the Earle­dome of Richmond, where hee becomes a great incendi­ary betweene the two Kings; discovering to King Ed­ward the secrets of France, and disapproving now of King Philips title; upon which a Declaration is published and sent to the Pope, and all the neighbour Princes, shewing the usurpation of Philip de Valois upon the Crowne of France.

c There was among the Flemmings one Iaques de Artevile a Citizen of Gavnt, of great estimation among the people: he was their Leader and Tribune as it were in all their tumults: him King Edward gets by great re­wards to take his part, and thereby had them all ready to assaile the French King upon any occasion. This Iaques, though a man of meane condition, was an usefull friend to England; whose death happening about seven yeeres after (for in a tumult his braines were beaten out) was much lamented by King Edward.

d This Robert King of Cicily, as Collenutius and o­ther Neopolitan writers testifie, was a learned Prince, and much renowned for his skill in Astrology: hee was about this time (saith our Froissard) at Avignion with Pope Benedict, where he declared to the Pope by his skill what great warres and blood-shed was like to be, and lamented [Page] the miseries of France. That report of Froissard gave ground to this discouse in the Poem.

e This Navall fight, which is here at large described in the Poem, was out of doubt the greatest that ever had been vpon these narrow Seas: the numbers were many, the fight was cruell, and the slaughter exceeding great. The French Navy by consent of most writers, consisted of 400 saile; the English consisted, according to some authors of 200 saile. according to others of 200. to others of 300. although Froissard report that the Frenchmen were foure to one English, which may be thought too much oddes to be beleeved, for the French in those dayes had good Sea-men: but the slaughter was exceeding great, and the victory as compleat on the English side as could be imagined: for ve­ry few of the French ships escaped home, but were either sunke or taken; and 30000▪ of their men flaine: of the English those writers, that report most, have mentioned but 4000.

THE REIGNE OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.
The third Booke.

Argument III.
Atruce' twixt France and Englands Kings is made▪
The Garter f [...]unded; Edward dooes invade
King Philip's lands; the warre's to tryall brought,
And that renowned field of Crescy fought.
A Wound so mortall had enfeebled France
By Sea receiv'd, she could no more advance
Her colours there: no more had she or veine
To bleed, or spirits left to strive againe.
What now remaines of this lovd-threatning warre
The Continent alone must feele: as farre
[Page]As Tourney, fill'd with high and wealthy hopes
Victorious Edward leads his cheerefull troops
Augmented lately with new-mustred bands
Of his confederates in the Netherlands.
That towne is first enobled by his stay,
Iudg'd worthy to be made the maiden prey,
A royall army would vouchsafe to take.
Nor is King Philip in her rescue slacke;
But for the late dishonourable blow
Fill'd with revenge and fury, thither now
Is marching with a numerous hoast, and brings
Besides his French-men, the two warlike Kings,
Navarre and Boheme: nor will Edward rise
From Tourneys siedge; although too small a prize
One Cities conquest now appeares to be
For Edward's sword; but Fortune lets him see
That she, to crowne his glorious hopes, so nigh
Had brought a warre of greater dignity.
And now the two incensed Kings are met,
And their great cause on one dayes tryall set
(As all beleeve) all expectations neere
Are drawne, nor have they time to hope or feare.
The armies both stand rang'd in faire array,
And fierce Bellona proud of such a day
(As if it lay not in the power of chance
That storme to scatter) shakes her dreadfull lance:
[Page]For like two high-swoll'n seas on either side,
Whose meeting rage no Isthmos did divide,
But windes, that from contrary quarters blow,
Together drive, the two Battaliaes show.
But that Eternall God, who from on high
Surveys all hoasts, disposes victory
(Call'd thence the Lord of hoasts) and sets the times
Of warre or peace, as sinfull Nations crimes
Provoke his justice, did not thinke it good
That cloud should yet dissolue in showres of blood.
But pleas'd to respite for a time the woes
Of wretched France; and for his purpose chose
An instrument, whose weaknesse might make knowne
The power, that reconcil'd them, was his owne.
A veiled Nun alone could enterpose,
And stay the fury of these armed foes,
Jane de Valois a Princely Lady, neere
To one in blood, as by alliance deere
To tother; Mother to great Edward's Queene,
And Philip's sister; who of late had beene
Since Heinaults death, at Fontenelles vow'd
A holy Nun▪ She waken'd with the loud
Alarmes of this so great so fear'd a blow,
Her quiet cloister had forsaken now.
Amidst their armed troopes her way she tooke,
And through the rudest breasts a reverence strooke.
[Page]Well did the fame of her chaste life before
Become the sacred habit that she wore.
Pure innocence her snow-white veile profest,
Her blacke a sorrow silently exprest.
Grave was her comely face; Devotion
On beavties ruines with more beavty shone.
In all her gestures dwelt humility,
But temper'd with commanding Majesty.
As thus she passes to perswade the Kings,
Faire Peace descends, and with her silver wings
Cutting the ayre, above the Princesse still
Hangs gently hovering; whose calme breath doth fill
The changed Campes; the Souldiers 'gan to feele
A mildenesse seize their breasts; all thoughts of steele
Of blood and slaughter seemed to withdraw.
This gentle Nymph when fierce Bellona saw
As she from heaven descended downe, and knew
Her hopes were now put off, away she flew,
And left the field; but with an angry looke
Turn'd backe, and proudly her plum'd helmet shooke.
Goe sluggish Nymph, quoth she, enjoy thy day;
Fates may deferre, but cannot wipe away
This Kingdomes wounds; but 'tis not their decree
The fields of Tourney should renowned be
To future times for such a glorious day.
In Crescy fields brave Edward shall display
[Page]His conquering colours; there the French shall fall,
And that poore Village, now scarce nam'd at all,
Shall for the death of many thousands be
A place of fame to all posterity.
There I shall reigne; till then dull fields adieu,
And like a Dragon through the ayre she flew.
And now so well the Princesse did perswade
Both Kings; so powerfull, he that sent her, made
Her pious Eloquence that all their hate
Seem'd banish'd; Philip of Valois forgate
His thirst of vengeance for the fatall blow
France tooke in that great Navall overthrow:
Edward relented too, content to cease
His royall clayme a while; a sudden peace
Is for three yeeres concluded to remaine.
The dreadfull colours folded up againe,
The threatning swords are sheath'd, not stained yet
In blood at all; and all those Princes met
To make the tryall of so great a day
Depart againe. King Edward takes his way
By Flanders home; and with his dearest Queene
That royall pledge, that for two yeeres had beene
Left there by him, (the honour of their clime)
And there had brought within that happy time
His royall family a faire increase
(Two Princely Sonnes) to England crost the Seas.
But soone Wars flame, that had a while in vaine
Beene by the Truce deprest, broke out againe,
And higher blaz'd; but by degrees it came:
Nor did the royall quarrell, and great claime
That Edward laid to France, begin the jarre;
But to draw on this great and fatall Warre
Collaterall causes are found out by fates.
And first in aide of their confoederates
Abovt the question'd right of Brittaines Lands
Th'engaged Princes by their servants hands,
And meaner strengths begin to blow the flame.
To England Montford's widow'd Dutchesse came,
And here from Edward noble succours gain'd
Gainst Charles of Bloys, whom Philip's power sustain'd:
The Earles of Suffolke, Pembrooke, Salisbury,
And Stafford, flowers of English chevalry,
Bourchier and Spencer Lords, and many moe
Of honour'd name, with her to Brittaine goe.
With them went Robert of Artois, who first
In Edward kindled that ambitious thirst,
And fir'd his active spirit to advance
His owne high honour by the woes of France.
At Vannes siedge (so fate ordain'd) he tooke
His mortall wound; but ere the soule forsooke
Her earthly reliques, thence to Englands ground
Transported backe, a quiet grave he found.
[Page]Her Souldier England willingly entomb'd:
His native France, that by his meanes was doom'd
So many following mischiefes to endure,
Bestow'd his death, but not his sepulture.
Vannes, and other little townes are won
And lost: but no important action
This warre produces (where the threats are high)
Save that the two great foes are drawne so nigh,
(Though timely truces doe againe prevent
The fatall blow:) great Edward not content
To send in Montford's aide those forces ore,
Arrives himselfe upon the Brittaine shore.
To whom Prince Iohn the Duke of Normandy
With forty thousand men approached nigh
In Bloys his right: the armies both prepare
To give the blow. Neere was the stroke of warre,
And Brittaine Vannes had almost beheld
What was decreed to Crescyes fatall field;
The royall powers of England and of France
In Brittaines cause to try their puissance
Before their owne great quarrell they maintaine.
But Brittaines Dutchie must not hope to gaine
So great an honour here: cleere growes the day,
Without a showre this cloud is blowne away,
The warre is done; two Cardinals attone
(As earst a Ladies gentle breath had done)
[Page]The royall Armies, and so well perswade,
Truce is againe 'twixt France and England made.
Sterne Mars a while from deeds of blood restrain'd
Strove still to whet his rage, and entertain'd
That breathing space in pastimes to prepare
His cruell forces for th' ensuing warre.
For like a Campe showes Edwards marshall Court,
To which the Knights of greatest fame resort
From every land, their prowesse there to try,
And gaine renowne by active Chevalry.
His great round Table for those warrelike feasts,
And invitation of such noble guests
At Windsor Castle does King Edward found,
Where he himselfe was borne, a place renown'd
For Britaine Arthur's name, who with his bold
Round-table Knights resided there of old.
Of whose majesticke state and honour there
Some monuments did in that age appeare,
Though too much darkned by injurious time,
And more by those vaine fables made of him,
Which casts such mists ore his bright deeds of glory
That he remaines a name without a story.
Nor does faire Windsor seeme alone to be
The Throne of Mars, and Scene of Chevalry,
But Loves delicious Bower, more grac'd then e're
Th' Idalian wood, or gentle Paphos were.
[Page]Here are the Cupids, here the Graces seene;
Hither does Philip, Edward's noble Queene
In state repaire with all her beautious traine,
Which then three hundred did no lesse containe
Of all the greatest, and most Courtly Dames
That this blest land could boast: they, like the flames
Of heaven, those Orbs of pure aetheriall sire
With noble thoughts the Knights strong breasts inspire.
For Courage oft from Beauties influence
Receives his motion. Iusts and Turneaments
With all the other feats of active Warre
Are daily show'd on this faire Theater.
Such Martiall labours once the Trojan Band
Did exercise in old Acestes land
Train'd by that pious Prince, who first brought ore
The Phrygian reliques to Laviniums shore.
But one unhappy Crosse is sent to be
A sad allay to this high jollity,
And make great Edward mourne in midst of all
His feasts and triumphs, the untimely fall
Of that renowned Earle of Salisbury
His deare-lov'd William Mountague, who by
A bruise in Tilting tooke his fatall wound.
Who (though a Subject still) was lately crown'd
The Monarch of an Ile, and first began
To weare that Royall title, King of Man.
[Page]That Iland, on the westerne Sea, betweene
Scotland and Ireland lying, that had beene
Subject so many yeeres to Scotlands Crowne,
Had by the valour of that Earle beene won
From them of late, whilst great King Edward (come
From Brittaines Truce with his strong army home)
Was wasting Scotland; who bestow'd that Ile
On th'Earle, together with a Royall stile.
But (oh) how short a time did envious Fate
Allot to noble William's Kingly state.
Who, like a sacrifice, did onely seeme
So neere his death, to weare a Diadem.
Soone ore all parts of Europe had the fame
Of Edward's table, and the Knights that came
Thither to show their manly prowesse, spred,
And in his jealous foe King Philip bred
High emulation; who discernes the end
To which these haughty preparations tend.
That Edward's aime is onely to advance
His strengths & friendships ▪gainst the Realme of France.
He thinks it now concernes him to prepare
Himselfe as well against th approaching Warre;
And in a cause and danger great as that
Dooes not at all disdaine to imitate
His subtile foe: but such a table he
Sets up, to draw from Austria, Italy,
[Page]And southerne Lands the Knights of best renowne
To grace his Court, and guard his threatned Crowne,
Prevented thus, a new society
King Edward founds, not onely made to be
For military deeds a present tye,
But lasting honour to posterity,
The noble order of Saint George his Knights.
Nor for invention of those sacred rites
To former times is he indebt at all,
As for the tables first originall
He was to Brittaine Arthur's old renowne.
So many standing monuments were knowne
Of his round tables in the Kingdome yet.
Besides, the warlike Mortimer had set
Another table up at Killing worth
The age before; whose fame had sounded forth,
And many forreine Knights had drawne from far.
But in this act not Mortimer shall share,
Nor any ancient Heröe; this renowne
Without a rivall, is third Edward's owne.
No Killing worth shall sound with Windsors name,
Nor Brittish Arthur darken Edward's fame.
Saint George the Martyr is esteem'd to be
A Patron fit for this society.
Among the Martyrs noble army, none
Had suffred more, nor more on earth forgone
[Page]For our deare Lord, when Dioclesian reign'd,
And every land with Christians slaughters stain'd.
Not all his wealth, nor stately signiories,
Nor prime of youth did this young Martyr prize;
(For thrice seven Summers onely had he told,)
Yet in that early age so wondrous bold,
And in Warres feats so skilfull was he growne,
That many famous battels he had wonne
'Gainst Caesar's stubbornst foes, before that he
By patience conquer'd Caesar's cruelty.
Him since for tutelary Saint of Warres
The Christians honour'd, as the Heathen Mars.
Him they invok'd in field, before they fought;
His noble ayd th' encourag'd Christians thought
Against the faithlesse Saracens they had;
That beauteous George in silver armour clad
And crimson Crosse appear d, conducting them
Vnto the conquest of Ierusalem.
That Saint and Souldier, in this Martiall age,
Edward entitles to the Patronage
Of that most noble Order he erects.
Whose armed figure's worne about their neckes;
The Garter buckled on their legge, to be
A marke of prowesse and of unity.
Which shall increase, and in all ages be
Deliver'd greater to Posterity.
[Page]While other lands in aemulation vaine
Shall strive so bright a lustre to attaine.
But Englands Garter shall obscure the rest,
Saint Michael's Knights in fhelly collars drest,
Rhodes silver Crosses, and Burgundia's fleece,
Though worne by gteater Worthies then from Greece
Did first in Argo crosse the Seas, and bore
That golden purchase from the Colchian shore.
Peace could no longer hold; Warres raging fire
Supprest a while, breakes forth, and blazes higher
Then e're it did; the battell must be try'd,
For which both Kings so long on either fide
Had made their strengths: all Truces now are broke.
And nothing can prevent the fatall stroke.
The noblest army that e're crost the Seas
From England yet, was now in readinesse;
Which Martiall Edward soone transported o're,
And safe arrived on the Norman shore.
Nor are King Philip's preparations slacke,
Whose side so many mighty Princes take;
While in suspence all Christian Nations are
To see the issue of so great a Warre.
Forth through the midst of quaking Normandy
Like Lightnings fatall stroke, did Edward flye
With his couragious troops, where-ere he went,
Diffusing feare and pale astonishment.
[Page]Swords freely raging, and remorselesse fire▪
Were instruments of his reuengefull ire.
Vnhappy a Caranton must be by fates
First offred to his fury: on her gates
The heads of Edward's slaughter'd friends remaine,
The heads of Percy, Bacon, Clifton slaine
Not long before by Philip's rage: for whom
The towne (alas) must bide a wofull doome.
For their deere fakes great Edward vowes to have
No mercy there: no age, no sexe can save
From deaths sad stroke; all slaughter'd that are found:
The towne it selfe is levell'd to the ground,
And in confused heapes of cinders lyes
To them a tombe and mourning sacrifice.
From thence the dreadfull army marches on;
Saint Lo, so rich in merchandise, is won,
And pillag'd by the Souldiers; stately Caen
Although a while it durst resist, is tane.
And now so great a terrour through the land
Is spread of him, that to his conquering hand
Themselves Falaise, Lyseaux, and Honfleur yeeld;
And uncontroll'd his march had Edward held
Beyond the bounds of Normandy at last:
Faire Eureux streame and Seine it selfe he past,
Now time it seem'd to stop his furious course;
Yet durst the French oppose no armed force
[Page]But breake the bridges downe where he should passe.
Which soone they finde too poore a barre (alas)
'Gainst Edward's spirit; whose resolved way
No high-swoll'n streame, no flood had power to stay,
No more then Caesars, after he had gone
Past the forbidden streame of Rubicon.
One part of Some, neere Abbevile, was knowne
That might be foorded, when the tide was gone.
To which sixe thousand Souldiers Philip sent
By Godmar led with politicke entent
To stop great Edward there, but with as bad
A Destiny, as with presage as sad
As those unhappy Persians sent to stay
At Granicus great Alexander's way.
No disadvantage could his passage barre
To whom the honour of that future warre
Was meant by Fate. Vpon the rivers banke
Stood Godmer's Souldiers in well-order'd ranke.
Through them (as through the channell) must the worth
Of th'English Souldiers carve their passage forth.
Edward, that knew their resolutions well,
And could by former hard adventures tell
That his bold men for him would rush to fight
Through waies, which some would fear to take in flight,
And passe that streame by his command alone;
Yet would not now command, but lead them on,
[Page]And in the action their example be.
He cryes, Who loves me now will follow me,
And springing forth into the trembling streame
Is follow'd with such spirit and zeale by them,
That all the French amazed at a sight
So wondrous strange, almost forget to fight,
And with dismay are vanquished, to see
Th' undaunted courage of an enemy.
With small adoe, while faintly they oppose,
The English gaine the banke, and rout their foes.
Of whom are many flaine: the rest for feare
Disorder'd flye; but their retreat is neare.
To Abbevile, where then King Philip lay
With all his great and glorious army, they
Chas'd by the English swords affrighted came;
And by their fellowes (who esteem'd the shame
As great as was the losse) received are
As bad presages of the future warre.
King Philip follow'd by the bravest hoast
That e're before the Realme of France could boast,
In confidence of Conquest to succeed,
And to revenge the late disgrace, with speed
(Although advis'd at Abbevile to stay
And rest his Army) marches thence away.
Thou sweetest Muse of all th' Aönian Spring,
Faire-hair'd Calliope, that best canst sing
[Page]Of Kings high deeds, and God-like Heroes fames,
Declare King Philip's power, recite the names
Of all (beside the native Chevalry
Of France, and flower of her Nobility)
The forraigne lands that shar'd in that great day,
And royall Princes that did there display
Their dreadfull colours in the ayd of France,
And forward thence to Crescy field advance.
Within the Van (with Charles of Alanson)
The royall Banner of Bohemia shone,
With which did Lodowike her old Martiall King
His furious horse, and well-try'd lances bring.
His glittering Plume, that many an honour'd field
Had knowne, and many a dreadfull fight beheld,
Wav'd there unhappily, ordain'd to be
A lasting fame to Edwards victory.
Along with him march'd Charles his Princely Sonne,
For whom the Fates a fairer thread had spunne,
Sav'd, to preserve the name, and ancient stemme,
And after weareth' Imperiall Diadem.
Thither from farre Majorca's Monarch brings
His light-arm'd Souldiers, from whose fatall slings
As from strong Bowes, death's carried; nor of yore
Were Cretan shafts or Parthian feared more.
With fifteene thousand mortall Crosse-bowes there
The stout Grimaldi and Antonio were
[Page]Two noble Chiefes from stately Genoa,
Whose Gallyes had in many a Navall fray
Against prond Venice wrastled long, to gaine
The rule of all the Mid-land Ocean▪
Stout John of Heinault to King Philip's side
His forces brings, although so neere ally'd
To Englands King (as Vnckle to the Queene)
And had by Edward highly honour'd beene.
He now had chang'd his faith, and for the gold
Of France, his mercenary valour sold.
There march those warlike Flemmings, that attend
Their Earle of Flanders Lewis, a constant friend
To France; but no strong number could he get,
Nor ore his subjects was his power so great.
They honour'd Edward's worth, and to his side
Had beene, without their Earles consent, ally'd.
There Charles of Blois leads on his martiall traine
In glittering armour: Burbon, and Lorraine.
To whom, whilest all the army march'd away,
But new arrived there, in rich array
Brings Savoyes Duke a thousand men of armes.
Whom from the lofty Alps the lovd alarmes
Of this great warre had drawne with dismall fate,
Too soone (alas) arriv'd, though seeming late.
How many men dooes Fortune bring from farre
Their parts to suffer in this tragicke warre?
[Page]How many Lands their severall shares of woe
Must contribute to Philip's overthrow?
Perchance cause Edward will his force advance
No farther then the continent of France,
She fear'd his fame would be no farther knowne,
But circumscribed where the deed was done:
Nor therefore suffers France to bleed alone.
The sad Bohemian wives that live upon
Great Albis bankes, and drinke faire Moldaes streame,
Must make this battell their lamented theame.
Those that beyond the clouded Alpes doe dwell,
And Netherlanders shall be forc'd to tell
Great Edward's honor, while their owne deere wounds
They count, receiv'd on Crescyes fatall grounds.
While thus the French march on in rich array,
In Crescy parke encamped Edward lay:
His firme Battalia on well chosen ground
Was clos'd behinde, and barricado'd round
With strongest fences made by plashing trees,
And placing there the weighty'st carriages.
Thither were all the Leaders horses brought
To cut off hope of flight, and leave no thought
In English breasts but Death or Victory.
Their resolutions that before were high,
By this strict meanes were more ascertain'd there.
Their minds were cheerfull, fresh their bodies were,
[Page]And fit t' encounter their approching foes.
In three Battalia's does the King dispose
His strength, which all in ready order stand,
And to each others rescue neere at hand.
The first in ranke that early blooming flower
Of fame, Prince Edward leads, a Warriour
Before a man; no Downe had cloath'd his chinne,
Nor seventeene Springs had this young Souldier seene.
Within his battell famous Leaders are,
Brave Warwicke, Stafford, Harcourt, Delaware,
There Beauchampe, Bourchier, Clifford, Chandois weild
Their active armes, whom many an honour'd field
Had fam'd before. The second Squadron by
Northamptons Earle was led: there Willoughby,
There Arundell, Lord Rosse and Basset stand,
Men that could well obey, and well command.
Within the third King Edward meanes to fight.
The great French Army now approach'd their sight,
And to each Campe did threatning Mars display
What the succeeding horrors of the day
Were like to be. The bloody stroake is nigh,
Nor in the power of Fortune does it lye
Their warrelike fury longer to restraine;
Nor now can silver-winged Peace againe
(As earst at Tourney and Malstroict shee did)
Th'enraged troops without death's stroke divide.
[Page]But fierce Enyo (chas'd from thence away)
Without controllment claimes this fatall day.
Darke grew the troubled ayre, as if it strove
Within the souldiers furious breasts to move
A sad presage of what would then ensue.
Nor longer could the golden Phoebus shew
His cheerefull face. The lightnings flashy light
And loudest claps of thunder' gan affright
The darkned welkin; which in teares apace
Dissolv'd, to fall upon the tragicke place.
Another darknesse more portentous rose
Ore both th'amazed camps. Whole sholes of Crowes
And croaking Ravens, that obscure the skye,
From all the neighbouring fields to b Crescy flye
(As thicke as Cranes in winter, that forsake
To drinke warme Nile, the frozen Strymons lake)
And muster there themselves, in hope to prey
Vpon the slaughter of so great a day.
From these ostents are deepe impressions wrought.
The souldiers fancies, as each breast is fraught
With passions various, variously surmise.
Presaging murmurs through all parts arise.
In some the thirst of fight encreast; in some
Appear'd the palenesse of a death to come.
Yet none so much on their owne danger thought
As they divin'd, after this field was fought,
[Page]About their Kings and Nations changed fate;
Nor had they time to feare their private state.
'Twixt both the Marshals, one on either side,
Through every battell did great Edward ride.
Whose royall presence with fresh vigour fill'd
The souldiers cheerefull bosomes, and exil'd
Even from the coldest hearts all thoughts of feare.
No long perswasive Oratory there
Did that short time afford, or Edward need;
Few exhortations serv'd, that did proceed
From such a Prince. He briefly bids them crowne
That day, their Nations honour and their owne;
And sets before the common souldiers eyes
How great, how glorious was their valours prize▪
How many Princes wealthy spoyles would be
The recompence of that dayes victory.
But when approaching Philip had beheld
His English foes embattell'd in the field,
And that the warre admitted no delay,
He vainely joy'd to see the wish'd for day,
That might redeeme the honour France had lost,
And straight drew on his rich and numerous hoast,
In which so many severall Nations fought
By their owne Soveraignes there in person brought.
And now those forraigne Princes every where
With fitting language briefly 'gan to cheere
[Page]Their armed Subjects; that in this dayes fight
As well their Countries honour, as the right
Of Philip lay; that all great France would fame
And thanke their conquering hands; how great a shame
It were for them to shrinke in such a warre,
To which for honour they had come so farre;
And left their dearest pledges, whom if they
Againe would see, it in their valours lay.
But most does Philip his French troops excite,
As most of all engaged in the fight
By natures lawes, and all the love they beare
To their deare native soyle, whose freedome there
Or shamefull conquest into question came;
That 'twas a staine already to the name
Of France, a petty King that claime durst make,
Or their great kingdomes conquest undertake.
Which they must wipe off by their valours now,
And for his pride chastise th' ambitious soe;
That easie 'twas to doe, since Edward's power
So few in number, not one hand 'gainst foure
Of fighting men, was able there to show:
And to revenge their fellow souldiers now,
Who neere to Sluce, on Neptune's watery Maine
Had beene before by English Edward slaine
With such like speeches all their hearts are fir'd,
And now a signall every where desir'd.
[Page]Which given, on both sides a lowd shout arose,
And Death began to deale his fatall blowes.
Farre off at first his winged message flyes,
While the strong-armed English Archer plyes
His bloody taske; while Genoan Crossebowes backe
Returne their fury, and the ayre growes blacke
With shafts, as erst with winged fowle it did.
The English Vangard, which Prince Edward led,
[...] in the figure of an herse came on.
'Gainst which the furious Charles of Alanson
K [...]g Philip's brother, with Bohemia's King
The strength of all the Chevalry did bring.
But [...]re the horse came on in full carriere,
The Genoan Crossebowes, that stood formost, were
To powre their stormes of fury on the foe.
But there began the fatall overthrow
Of that huge Army. For the late great fall
Ofraine (although it did no hurt at all
To the English bow-strings) spoyl'd the Genoans quite,
And made their Crossebowes uselesse in the fight.
Who weary'd with their mornings march so farre,
And griev'd with dis-respect, had tane no care
How to preserve their strings. Which seeing, on,
On Chevaliers, cryes hot Count Alanson,
And o're yon lazy Genoans bellies make
Your way to victory; let souldiers take
[Page]The Van from uselesse beasts. With that they ride
Vpon them furiously; by their owne side
The wretched Genoans are trod downe and slaine.
But nothing by that act the horsemen gaine;
For o're their bodies some are tumbled downe,
The rest that stand, in that confusion
Are gall'd with arrowes, that uncessant flye
From th' English fresh▪ and gallant Archery,
Which did almost the whole Battalia rout.
The whiles the dying Genoans round about
Might see, before their latest gaspe of breath,
Their owne revenge wrought in the Horsemens death;
And for the wrong, which their owne side did doe,
And quickly righted by the valiant foe.
But loth farre off t'endure the Archers force
Count Alanson with his approaching horse
Within Prince Edward's battell strives to bring
The fight; and thither th' old Bohemian King
With his brave troope does even-ranked ride,
Whose reines are all fast to each other ty'd,
As if they meant to mow the enemy
By squadrons downe▪ So chained Bullets flye
And sweepe a field, as those Bohemian horse
Close-link'd together came. And now their force
Within the Archers formost ranke had got
There the encounter growes more closely hot;
[Page]There battell-axes, swords, and lances stand;
There foot to foot, and furious hand to hand
The men at Armes maintaine a constant warre.
And now Prince Edward's battell too too farre
Began to be opprest; to succour whom
The second battell of the English come.
In which with other Lords Northampton stood;
And all too little in this scene of blood
That succour seemes to be. Vp to the hill
On which King Edward with his battell, still
Vntouch'd, kept stand, the Lords have sent to crave
Ayd for the Prince in this sad storme; but have
This answer (past their expectation) made:
While hee's alive send not to me for ayd;
Tis he must weare this honour; nor will I
Be Edward's rivall in the victory;
Or feare so much his danger, to step in,
And seize those Bayes, which he alone will winne.
From this Heroike answer of a King
In every bosome did fresh vigour spring.
That answer might have wrought despairing feare;
But that young Edward and the Nobles there
The worth and wisdome of the King did know,
And he their spirits whom he sent it to.
Now does the day grow blacker then before;
The Swords, that glister'd late, in purple gore
[Page]Now all distain'd, their former brightnesse lose;
Whilest high the tragicke heape of slaughter rose.
Swords meeting swords, and breaking lances sound,
Clattering of armed breasts, that fall to ground,
And dying souldiers groanes are onely heard.
Horror in all her saddest shapes appear'd.
But long the fury of a storme so strong
Could not endure, nor Fortune waver long
In such a tryall; but at last must show
Which way her favours were decreed to goe.
The English Swords with slaughter reeking all
At last had carved in the Frenchmens fall
Their way to victory; who now apace
Are beaten downe, and strew the purple place;
Where, like their owne pale-fading Lillies, lye
The flower of all the French Nobility.
What Muse can in this field of death declare
Each private wound? each fate particular?
Or pay the severall obsequies to all?
'Mongst common souldiers slaughter'd Princes fall;
'Twixt whom Death takes away the distance now,
While in one streame their bloods commixed flow.
There Alanson, striving to cure in vaine
The wound of France, is beaten downe and slaine.
There dyes Majorca's King, who from his home
So farre had sail'd to find a forraigne tombe,
[Page]And dearely that alliance, (which he thought
So safe to him) in this fierce battell bought.
Lewis Earle of Flanders, that to Philip's state
Had beene so constant a confaederate,
Whom no conditions to King Edward's side
Could ever draw, on Edward▪s weapons dy'd,
Sealing in blood his truth to France, to lye
A wailed part of her calamity.
There Savoy's Duke the noble Amy lay
Weltring in gore, arriv'd but yesterday
At Philip's haplesse Campe, as short an ayd
As Rhaesus prov'd to falling Troy, betray'd
The first sad night, and by Tidydes hand
Slaine, e're his Steeds had graz'd on Trojan land,
Or drunke at all of Xanthus silver streame.
But most the warrelike Monarch of Boheme
Old Lewis was fam'd. Who on that honour'd ground
Chain'd to the formost of his troops was found,
And charging at the head of all was slaine.
His cold dead hand did yet that Sword retaine
Which living erst it did so bravely weild.
His hopefull sonne young Charles had left the field
When he perceiv'd that Fortune quite was gone
To Edward's side. His Father blood alone
Was too too great a sacrifice to be
Bestow▪d on France; whose dying valiancy
[Page]Made all men more desire his Sonne to live,
And that the branch of such a tree might thrive.
There was the Noble Bourbon, there Lorraine,
Aumall, Nevers, and valiant Harcourt slaine.
In vaine had Philip now (whose Princely soule
In all those deaths did bleed) strive to controll
By highest valour, what the Fates would doe.
Wounds not in mind alone, but body too
(Vnhorsed twice) did th'active King receive,
As much asham'd no blood at all to leave
In such a field, although enforc'd to part
Himselfe from thence; at last his strugling heart
Is to necessity content to yeeld,
And flyes with speed from that unhappy field.
With whom the Frenchmen all the fight forsake,
And o're the Countrey flight disordred take.
By this had Night her sable mantle spred
Vpon the earth, by whose protection fled
The vanquish'd French with more security.
A most compleat and glorious victory
The English had obtain'd; yet would not now
Dis-ranke themselves to chase the flying foe.
But in that field, which they alone possest,
Resolve to give their weary'd bodies rest,
Till mornings light display those wealthy spoyles,
That must reward the conquering souldiers toyles.
Now great King Edward from the Windmill hill
Came downe, where his untouch'd Battalia still
Had stood, till all the fight below was done,
And in his armes embrac'd his armed Sonne.
Who now with blood and sweat was all distain'd;
Then gratulates his early honour gain'd
In such a field of danger, joy'd to see
His blooming yeares thus flesh'd in victory.
Well did that day presage the future glory
And martiall fame of this great Prince, whose story
With admiration after-times shall heare.
Like miracles his conquests shall appeare
In France atchiev'd; nor shall that kingdome bound
His Swords great deeds; whose fame shall farther sound,
And royall trophees of blacke Edward's praise
Beyond the Pyrenaean mountaines raise.
Next morne, mists, fatall to the French, arose;
To Crescy field, where their encamped foes
Stood now refresh'd, were many troops of France
Discerning not the former battels chance
Like sacrifices come, and fell there more
Then had beene flaine in all the fight before.
Victorious Edward for so great a day
To God's high Throne on bended knees did pay
His true and humble thankes, and briefly then
Commend the worthy service of his men.
[Page]Who now the spoyles of that rich Army share,
As just reward of their victorious warre.

Annotations upon the third Booke.

a King Edward taking Caranton protested openly that he sacrificed it to the memory of these Gentlemen, who had the yeere before beene uniustly massacred by King Philip, and their heads now were standing upon the gates of that unhappy towne. For King Philip of France the yeare before perceiving that a terrible tempest of warre was likely to fall upon him out of England, waxed cruell in his iealousie, and put sundry principall men of Nor­mandy, Picardy, and Guyenne to death, for no other crime, but that they were English in affection: Among whom are reckoned Sir Oliver de Cli [...]on, Baco, Persie, and Geoffrey of Malestroict, Knights of the best note. Sir Godfrey of Harecourt, brother to the Earle of Hare­court, a man once in high favour with King Philip, be­ing upon this occasion also summoned to Paris, fled to King Edward into England, and became another Robert of Artois; for his valour and counsels at this present in­vasion of France did much advantage King Edward's atchievements; though two yeares after he forsooke the [Page] English, and returned againe to the obedience of Philip his naturall Lord.

b This great battell of Crescy, where King Edward obtained so full, and wonderfull a victory, is at large reci­ted in the Poem, and therefore little shall need here to bee spoken of it, but onely of the numbers which fought or dyed on both sides. The English Army by generall consent of almost all Authors consisted of 30000. The French, ac­cording to those that speake least, together with their aux­iliaries, were about 60000. But many Authors of good credit report their number twice as many, others agree upon an hundred thousand. Upon that Saturday, being the 26 of August, 1346, when this great battell was fought, the slaughter was great on the French side, for none were taken to mercy upon that day, for the Conquerors thought it not safe for themselves to take any Prisoners. But the next morning presented new worke; for a great mist arose, that men could hardly see the distance of an acre of ground from them; when as many troops of Frenchmen from Roan, Beavicois, and other Cities comming to joyne themselves with King Philip, (and not hearing of his discomfiture) together with great multitudes of such as had lost their way in the last flight, lighted vnhappily upon the victori­ous English, and were severely put to the Sword. Among those that came with fresh forces to ayd the King were the Archbishop of Roan, and the Grand Prior of France; who [Page] were both slaine after a great and sore battell with the English; for they brought a good strength with them. The Earles of Northampton, Suffolke and Norfolke had exe­cution of the French, which fled from this last overthrow, for the space of nine English miles from the ground where they encountred. And it is the generall consent of Au­thors, that more of the French were slaine upon this se­cond day, then were the day before, when the great battell was fought; some Prisoners were then taken, though none of great name, for they were spent in the day before. When the account was taken, it was found that there dyed in all of the French side eleven great Princes, of Earles, Ba­rons, and gentry of high account about fifteene hundred, of common souldiers above thirty thousand. And to make the victory the more wonderfull, there was not one man of honour or note slaine upon the English side, of common souldiers so few, that we finde no mention of the number.

THE REIGNE OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.
The fourth Booke.

Argument IIII.
Calleis by Edward is besieg'd, and wonne.
Great deeds in severall parts of France are done
By Edward's souldiers, whilest in England here
The King of Scotland's taken prisoner.
FIve mornes had cleer'd the Earth with Phoebus light,
And from the Pole remov'd the dampes of night
Since England's conquering King from Crescy gone
Without controll of foes, had marched on
Through Picardy; and now before the Towne
Of Calleis sate with his strong Army downe,
[Page]Resoly'd in spite of all releefe or fence
Till he had gain'd it, not to rise from thence.
Impregnable was Calleis; to be wonne
Not by assault, but length of siedge alone,
Where meagre famine Natures greatest foe,
And heavens fear'd plague must all th'atchivement doe▪
For which great Edward had on every side
His Campe entrench'd, and strongly fortifi'd
With timber-workes, investing it by land
The circuit round; the Sea at his command
Was wholly then; where his strong Navy lay,
And brought his Campe provisions every way.
But while the siedge is yet but new begun,
Fortune presents a brave occasion
To make King Edward▪s noble nature knowne,
That all the Countrey may as much renowne
His minds brave sweetnesse as his Martiall fame,
And learne to love as well as feare his name.
De Vein the Marshall, and Lord Dandregan,
That then commanded Calleis, while they can,
Resolve to th'utmost to preserve so deare
A pledge, and nought but onely famine feare.
They therefore straight enforce out of the Towne
The folke, that now for warre are uselesse growne
Full fifteene hundred heads (to spare their store)
The lame, the sicke, the aged, and the poore.
[Page]At mercy of the foe these wretches goe,
If to such wretches Edward were a foe.
But he remembers he's a King, and they
Too weake (alas) to be the Lion's prey.
Instead of foes, his bounty makes them guests,
And French, by French forsaken, Edward feasts.
With store of victuals, and with money too
He sends them thence; who every step they goe
Send backe a prayer for his prosperity.
And in their hearts acknowledge silently
That he's the lawfull Soveraigne of the land.
For when two titles thus in question stand,
Whose (doe the people thinke) should be the right
But his, whom first just heaven assists in fight?
And makes ('gainst odds) a conquerour of his foes?
And who besides by his compassion showes
Himselfe his Countries father, as Kings are?
Those barricado'd strongest works of warre,
Which must, in spite of Philip's forces, stand
Till Calleis keyes be given to Edward's hand,
Can these weake people find a passage through,
Which th'armed strength of France could never doe▪
Nor loses Edward time in staying there;
For every day to his rejoycing eare
Some prosperous newes from forreine parts is brought
Of what abroad his conquering men have wrought.
[Page]How every action's crown'd with high successe,
And all their conflicts adde some happinesse
To his triumphant side; as if that then
Kind Fortune strove the name of Englishmen
Even to the highest point of fame to bring;
Or that the Genius of so great a King
Through all the lower parts diffused were
To guide their deeds alike. For wheresoe're
They fight, the Garland's wonne, and every warre
A Crescy proves, where Edward's souldiers are.
From Guyenne first he heares the prosperous fights
Of noble a Darby; who with Gascoyne Knights,
And other Lords from Burdeaux tooke his way,
And o're the river of Garonne, 'twixt Blay
And that great City, march'd through Philip's lands.
Faire Mirabell is yeelded to his hands.
Aunay and her strong Castle, with Benon,
And Maraunt in Poictou by force are wonne;
Tailebourgh, and Bourgh Saint Maximent they win
Both by assault, and Montrevill Bonin.
Nor with so small a power of Souldiers feares
The warrelike Darby to assault Poictiers,
So large in circuit that he could not lay
Round siege about it; but one onely way
Surpriz'd it by assault; and many moe
Atchievements high did his small army doe.
[Page]There many noble Prisoners did he take,
And march'd without controll, to Burdeaux backe.
There breakes his Army up with thankes, and home
His souldiers fill'd with wealth and honour come.
As much true honour wonne the English name
In Brittaines warres, as radiant was their fame.
Where Charles of Bloys the great Competitour
By valiant Dagworth and his English power
Was overthrowne and taken Prisoner.
The odds so wondrous in their numbers were,
One Writer then amazed, in his thought
Among the deeds of th'ancient Worthies sought
A paralell for Dagworth's victory,
Entituling him another Machabee.
But that which most secur'd great Edward's state,
(Left English swords should prove lesse fortunate
In England, then in forraigne parts they were)
That Conquest was, and royall Prisoner,
Which his brave men had in his absence gain'd.
Queene Philip sent the newes, and there complain'd
Of Copland's stout demeanour, who to her
Deny'd to yeeld the King his Prisoner.
For which to Calleis Copland sent for, had
So good excuses to great Edward made,
That for the service, from his royall hand
He gain'd a [...]h reward. The King commands
[Page]Him to relate the battell, and display
Each circumstance of that victorious day.
Full well (quoth noble Edward) doe I know
That most to God's Almighty hand I owe
For preservation of my kingdome there.
What strength had you alas? what forces were
In readinesse? what Army could you bring
Against th'invasion of a warrelike King?
Whilest here our selfe with our chiefe Army lay
At Calleis siedge, the second was away
As farre as Guyenne, and the third then fought
In Brittaines wars? what were the hands that wrought
This great atchievement? but King David brake
The truce he made with us, that he might take
With Philip's fortune, Philip's falling side.
For heaven does justly warres successes guide.
Doe thou relate the fight. The King had done,
When humbly bowing Copland thus begun:
Since you are pleas▪d, dread Soveraigne, to command,
(For whose victorious brow the sacred hand
Of heaven is weaving Garlands every where)
From me the meanest of your servants, heare
This battels great successe, and what for you
The same high hand has wrought in England now.
To Durham walls (while farre his terror spread
Among the people) had King David led
[Page]His royall army; where those warrelike Peeres
Of Scotland march'd, that had for many yeeres
Late past, so well the English borders knowne;
That there so many strange exploits had done,
And wealthy pillage gain'd: when to withstand
That threatning force, and guard their native land
With noble spirits the English Lords prepare,
And draw their forces to this sudden warre;
Lord Percy, Nevill, Mowbray, D' Eincourt there,
Humfrevile, Mawley, Musgrave, Scroope appeare,
And many more of worthy note, to whom
The men at armes, and nerved Archers come.
Nor in so great a danger was it thought
Enough, if onely usuall souldiers fought,
To save their Countryes universall harme
The Churchmen fight, the reverend Prelates arme;
The two Archbishops and grave Durham there
Their Crosier-staves' midst streaming Ensignes beare.
No cause (they thought) could make them to refuse
So deare a warre, no calling could excuse.
O're all the field doe armed Priests appeare,
And shaven Monkes unused helmets weare▪
Such was that law the ancient Romans made,
When e're the furious Gaules did them invade.
No Priesthood from warres service then excus'd.
But that which into th' English breasts infus'd
[Page]The noblest fire; was that your vertuous Queene
Great Sir, among us was in person seene.
Nor could the Princely burden of her wombe
(Great as she was with childe) detaine her from
That gracious visit. As along she rode
On every ranke and squadron she bestow'd
Words that inspir'd new life; such seemed shee,
Such did her lookes and cheerefull Majesty
Appeare to each adoring souldier
As Poets fancy'd in the Trojan warre
Majesticke Iuno, when in all her state
Shee would descend from heaven to animate
The warrelike Greekes, or Pallas come to lead
Her wise Vlisses, or stout Diomed.
At Nevils Crofle, a place not fam'd at all
Till this great conflict, and King David's fall,
The eager Armies meet to try their cause.
Our English Lords in foure Battalia's
Bring on their forces; but so furious growes
In little time the fight; so neare the blowes,
That soone no order we perceive at all.
For like one body, closely move they all.
And thought the archers had at first begun
The fight with wondrous happinesse, and done
So much as caus'd the future victory,
Yet now their arrowes scarce have roome to flye▪
[Page]While swords and bils doe all; while hand to hand
The armies wrastling with each other stand.
Small ground (and that alternately) they gave,
As by a rivers side tall reeds doe wave:
Or when a field of lofty standing corne
Two severall wayes by different gales is borne.
That if a man had from some hill survei'd
The fight, and seene what equall motion sway'd
Both armies there: he would have beene so farre
From judging which should conquer in that warre,
As to have fear'd almost that all would dye,
And leave no conquest, but one tragaedy.
No stratagem, no foule default was show'd,
Nor could your servants tell to what they ow'd
(Vnlesse to justice of their cause it were)
That dayes hard conquest; which 'gan then appeare
When those chiefe flowers of Scotlands noble blood
Strew'd dead those places, where before they stood.
There Murrey's Earle, the noble Randolph, sonne
To that renowned Randolph that had done
His native land such wondrous service, falls
Encircled not with vulgar funerals
Alone, but men of Scotlands greatest power,
Her Marshall, Chamberlaine, and Chancellour.
With many moe of note and dignity.
The King himselfe, who with resolve as high
[Page]As any souldier had maintain'd the fight,
Neere still, where greatest danger did invite
His forward sword; and might for valiancy
Deserve a conquest, not captivity,
That through the thigh had with a lance bin strucke
(Besides two shafts that in his body stucke)
And lost much royall blood, when he beheld
His Army now discomfited in field,
Not yet dismay'd, fought on; when 'twas my chance
Your Graces meanest souldier, to advance
The next to him; I humbly bade him there
To yeeld himselfe King Edward's prisoner;
And gently came to take his hand; but hee
That sought for death before captivity,
And therefore strove our anger to provoke,
My face so fiercely with his Gauntlet strooke,
That two teeths loste can witnesse yet the blow.
Then with his sword (though hurt and weary'd now)
He flyes among us, while disdaine and ire
Into his weary nerves new strength inspire,
That scarce could we his most unwilling foes
Preserve that life which he desir'd to lose.
At last he fell; by which our royall prey
We seiz'd, and bore him by maine strength away.
That fate the greatest Nobles of his land
The Earles of Fife, Menteith, and Southerland
[Page]With warrelike Douglas are enforc'd to take;
While all the rest, that could escape the wracke
Of that sad day, forsake the tragicke fight,
And into Scotland take disordred flight.
King Edward pleas'd with this relation,
And what John Coplond in that fight had done,
Conferres on him, beside revenues great,
The martiall honour of Knight Banneret,
And sends him backe for England, with command
To yeeld his prisoner to Queene Philip's hand.
Despaire had entred the besieged Towne
Of Calleis now; pale famine, which alone
Subdues the strongest forts, had taken hold
Vpon the wretched Citizens, and gold
Which reignes in humane breasts at other times,
Esteem'd a price even for the greatest crimes,
Is proved no just rate at all to beare,
Food only is of price, and valu'd there.
All former hopes of their releefe were crost:
In vaine had Philip with a numerous hoast
From Amiens marched; Edward's siedge to raise,
And challeng'd him in vaine; for all the wayes
Of their approaching both by sea and land
Were by the English kept, each passage mann'd.
And now (though late) the governors were bent
To yeeld to termes, and to King Edward sent.
[Page]Who, scornes t'accept of any termes but these,
That six the wealthiest of their Burgesses
With halters on their neckes, resolv'd to dye,
Should to his pleasure yeeld them presently;
And that their deaths his wrath should expiate;
That all conditions else should come too late,
And he no mercy on the Towne would take.
These sad conditions are returned backe;
And through all hearts had strucke a chilling feare
In every visage did pale Death appeare.
For though destruction challeng'd but a few,
It threatned every head; untill they knew
What heads would suffer. They despair'd to find
Among the noblest ranke so brave a mind
That would on that condition choose to dye,
As once for Rome devoted Decij.
In this amaze the weeping people throng
Into the publike Market-place. Among
Their cryes confus'd, and different face of woes,
Eustace a rich and noble Burgesse rose,
Who, when the people 'gan a silence make,
Thus with a voyce and looke undanted spake:
Since, Countreymen, you know King Edward's doome
Let me be bold to claime my proper roome.
The wealthiest men must suffer; nor will I
Strive now to hide that wealth and dignity,
[Page]That made me honour'd in our peacefull time,
Nor e're be guilty of so foule a crime,
As not to come a willing sacrifice
For all. I thanke the English King in this;
That, though a generall pardon he deny,
He is so just in his severity,
To make those men, that most indebted were
Vnto their Countrey, pay the most for her.
Besides, he gives us privilege in the case;
The low, the impotent, and poore (alas)
Looke on the generall slaughter of the Towne,
And, mixt with publike ruine, feare their owne,
Since Edward makes their lives too cheape a price
To be for all th'appeasing sacrifice.
They onely feare, but no election, know,
And must endure what fortune we bestow:
But to the nobler ranke of Burgesses
Though death be nearer, yet our feares are lesse.
Election's left to us, and power to make
That vantage thence, which others cannot take.
For we gaine honour if we freely dye,
And not abandon this brave liberty:
If we refuse, their deaths will be the same
With ours; and yet no choyce to purchase same
Is given to them. We ought our lives to give
In gratitude for this prerogative.
[Page]Why should so many thousand people dye
When six the foes demand will satisfie?
Had he beene pleased to accept of one,
I then had spared this Oration;
Because my selfe had had the power to be
What now I cannot without company.
But howsoever, Eustace will be one
That freely comes to this oblation.
A generall applausive shout was heard,
And many passions 'mongst the rout appear'd.
Mov'd with his love and noble piety
The Commons weepe, the Burgers instantly
Present themselves, and make it now a strife
Who first shall offer his devoted life.
Daire first steps in to Eustace side; to whom
Two Wyssons, brethren, Iames and Peter come;
Forth in a moment the whole number stands
Six of the wealthiest Burgesses; whose hands
The weeping people kisse, and to the skye
Extoll their pious magnanimity.
The keyes of Calleis are by Eustace borne:
And on they march undaunted; halters worne
About their necks, instead of cheines are beene,
Yet honour'd more then chaines of gold had beene.
Whom to the gates the people all attend,
And thousand prayers for their safety send.
[Page]Their prayers are heard, and God preserves their lives;
At Calleis Edward's vertuous Queene arrives,
Queene Philip great with child, who pleas'd to make
Their lives the boone she crav'd. For her deare sake
(Though Edward srown'd at first, and bade them dye)
He smoothes his brow, and to her clemency
And pleasure onely he commits the men;
Shee freely pardons and rewards them then.
An action fit for that brave Queene to doe,
And fitter farre for Edward to allow
Then doe himselfe; whom sternnesse then became
No lesse then pitty did the royall Dame.
Thus with his family could he divide
His owne renowne, and give (as erst hee did
The fame of Crescy's conquest to his Sonne)
To her the thankes of this compassion.
In Calleis Castle proud to entertaine
So great a Monarch with his warrelike traine
The Conquerour feasts his vertuous Queene; where she
To give the Castle greater dignity,
Or take more firme possession then before,
A Princely daughter to great Edward bore.
Whence some presaged that that conquer'd place
Should long remaine to Edward's royall race.
Soone o're that channell into England flyes
The fame of Edward's glorious victories,
[Page]Of Crescy battell, of faire Calleis wonne,
And all the other high atchievements done.
Where France in severall parts had felt the force
Of English armes. Such is the glad discourse
In every part of Edward's kingdome now.
Some speake of France, some Scotland's overthrow:
One tells what Dagworth had in Brittaine done;
Or what in Gascoyne noble Darby wonne,
Themselves enrich'd, secur'd on every side.
Oft had the Moone renew'd her waned pride
Since daily newes had beene of some successe,
Of some rich triumph, or new happinesse;
Since they so oft had to their Temples gone,
And oft payd thankes to God's caelestiall Throne.
Oft friendly feastings did expresse their joyes.
The Countrey Damsels danc'd, and sporting Boyes
Abroad in fields, by chosen companies
Would act before their pleased parents eyes
The late-fought battels, and the story show
Of Edward's conquest, Philip's everthrow.
Such were the triumphs, such the sports of Rome
When newes was from victorious Scipio come
Of Zama's prosperous battell, and the fall
Of their long terror, Libyan Hanniball.
Faire Summers pride began to fade away,
And night encroach upon the houres of day,
[Page]When Fortune does (as if in spite of time
Shee meant to make in England's joyfull clime
Another Summer) to the people bring
The long wish'd presence of their conquering King▪
Oh how from Dover-landing all the way
Along to London, as his progresse lay,
Was strew'd with branches! how the ayre was rent
With acclamations which the people sent;
When with himselfe in highest Majesty,
The Queene, and that young flower of Chevalry
Prince Edward rode, with all the valiant traine
Of Lords and Knights return'd from France againe,
With noble Prisoners, with, warre's wealthy prize,
And captive Ensignes of their enemies.
Now happy London is the Theater
Of triumph growne; the souldiers every where
Taste the sweet fruits of their successefull toyles,
And fill their native Countrey with the spoyles
That ransack'd France has lost. On beds from thence
Of richest worke lye London Citizens.
While every house a clothing new puts on;
In all their largest roomes are hangings showne,
Of fairest tapistry, which heretofore
Faire Caranton, or Caen, or Calleis wore.
At feasting tables they carouse in wine
In ancient plate, on which engraven shine
[Page]Armes of some Norman Lord, or Gascoyne Peere;
And their lost jewels English Ladies weare
To please new Lovers; whilest each Lad can decke
With Peales of France his mistris beautious necke.
While other neighbouring Countrys curse the chance
Of their successelesse warres: while wretched France
Beholds her losses with a mourning eye,
And Scotland wailes her Kings captivity:
England alone is fill'd with joy, that sees
The gaine of warre, and not the miseries.
And thus is all the winters season spent
In revels, feasts, and jolly merriment.
But oh, how soone fades earthly blisse away!
And clouds of griefe o'recast the fairest day!
How soone that land, that seem'd in surest state
Of happinesse, growes sad and desolate.
Such must the mourning change of England be,
Although no sword of forreine enemy,
Nor stroke of warre shall shake her quiet state:
Though Edward's sword continue fortunate,
And on his standard victory attend:
Yet other arrowes the great God can send
To wound a kingdome. That Almighty hand,
That wounded Israel once, his chosen land
With David's choyce for David's high offence,
Not with mans sword, but his owne pestilence,
[Page]Strikes England so; yet this they comfort call,
Into the hands of man they shall not fall.
b Sad growes the time, nor with her wonted cheare,
Or usuall dressing does the Spring appeare;
No cleansing gale of Zephyre moves the ayre,
While rising fogs obscure the welk in faire.
Without his showres contagious Auster blowes,
And painted Summer no kind fruit bestowes.
Nor does the Sunne, as if inflam'd with ire,
Send out that wholesome and prolifique fire
He us'd to doe: but beames of mortall heat;
And from the bosome of the twins, as great
Combustion kindles here, as if he then
Vpon the Nemean Lion's backe had beene.
Within the farthest Easterne Lands, from whence
Day breakes, breakes forth the fatall pestilence,
As if with rising Titan it begunne,
And follow'd thence the motion of the Sunne.
To Europe then does th▪ hot contagion flye,
Raging through euery part of Italy;
And France, that bled so late, is forc'd to see
Beside warres stroke, a new mortality.
But most of all o're England's mourning face
The sad infection spreads; and Death apace
In his pale Chariot rides through all the land.
No age nor sexe escape his vengefull hand.
[Page]Young men in prime of all their strength are strooke,
And yeeld. The sucking Infant, what he tooke
From Nature, soone is summon'd to repay:
From those soft limbs untimely fleets away
The new-come Soule, before it can be growne
Acquainted with the tender mansion.
The aged man, not because aged, goes,
But onely 'cause he had a life to lose.
The mourning grave becomes a marriage bed
To beauteous maids; praeposterously dead
One father wailes his sonne: another all
His houshold carries in one funerall,
And for so many deaths one mourning serves,
If one be left to mourne. No care preserves
Nor antidote can save from this disease:
Their greatest hope is but to dye in peace;
For oft the fiery sicknesse did invade
Reasons coole seat; and there prevailing made
A strange distraction, worse then losse of breath;
For which their friends wish'd (as a cure) their death.
The face oft burn'd; no moisture had the eye,
Nor could by teares expresse their misery.
Some, while their dearest friends they doe entombe,
Before that pious office done, become
Themselves a funerall. Death makes him to be
An hearse, that came a mourning obsequy.
[Page]Nor does this venemous contagion
Worke the destruction of mankind alone,
The sheepe and cattell perish; as if growne
On earth quite uselesse, since the men are gone.
Wast lye the Lawnes, the fields of tillage now
Are desolate, while the forsaken plow
Nor men nor cattell scarce can exercise.
The Oxe in midst of all his labour dyes,
And leaves behind his mourning fellow, now
Dismist from toyle, and service of the plow.
Who takes no comfort now in shady woods,
In flowery meadowes, or cleare Chrystall floods
That destiny (alas) for him remaines
Although at rest. The warrelike horse disdaines
The pleasant streames, and sicke forgetteth quite
His food, or th' honour of a race or fight.
Even Toads and Vipers dye, acquainted growne
With venome farre more mortall then their owne
Twice through th' Horrizon had Hyperion runne
Since first the fatall Pestilence begunne,
Before th' Almighty did his sword restraine,
And with his favour visit earth againe.
He now is pleas'd to cast a gracious eye
On this distemper'd world; her misery
He cures; and makes her former beauty come;
With kindly fruits he fills earth's fertile wombe.
[Page]And makes sweet blasts to move the wholesome ayre.
The people find at last their humble prayer
Is heard; and now the teares are wip'd away,
Due praise and thankes before his Altar pay.

Annotations upon the fourth Booke.

a Those that would see at large the actions of the Earle of Darby in Guyenne, Aquitaine, and Normandy, let them read Froissard, where they shall see them fully (though not elegantly related. This Earle of Darby a man of great worth, and neere in blood to King Edward, was afterwards by him created Duke of Lancaster (the first Duke that e­ver was in England) and left behind him no other issue, but one daughter; who being his sole heire was married to Iohn of Gaunt the Kings sonne, and brought to him a large dowry, together with the title of Duke of Lancaster.

b This wonderfull mortality which it pleased God in his wrath to send upon the wretched earth, happened in the 22. yeare of King Edward, immediately after the taking of Calleis; a greater pestilence wee can scarce read of in any particular land or kingdome, much lesse so great, and with all so generall as this was For not onely England, but France, Italy, and most of the Easterne and Southerne [Page] kingdomes were visited at that time, and felt the rod most heavy and sad on them. The fore-runner of this great sick­nesse was immoderate raine, for our Chronicles agree in generall, that from Midsummer to Christmas it rained every day or night. The yeare following it is noted that there dyed in London betweene Ianuary and the end of July seven and fifty thousand persons. Other Cities and Townes suffered the like according to their proportions; insomuch that some writers of those times were of opinion that halfe the inhabitants of the Land dyed: for we must not beleeve Walsingham, who sayes there was not above a tenth part of mankinde left alive. As great a death of Cattell happened both that, and the yeere following. Thie was the greatest, but not the onely plague which happened during the reigne of this King Edward For twelve yeeres after England was visited with another, which our Chro­nicles called the second great Plague. In that many of the Nobility dyed, and among the rest that noble Henry Duke of Lancaster, a chiefe actor in all the warres and victories of Edward, and a maine Pillar of the state at that time.

THE REIGNE OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.
The fifth Booke.

Argument V.
Prince Edward levyes forces to maintaine
Against the French, his right in Aquitaine;
The King wasts Scotland; Poictiers field is fought,
From whence King Iohn of France is prisoner brought.
PHilip of France had left the earth, and John
The eldest Sonne, as in his father's Throne,
So in his sad mis-fortunes does succeed.
Who, what the Fates in vengeance had decreed
Against his Realme, by rashnesse hastens on.
And (gainst all right) on Charles his eldest sonne
[Page]Conferres the stile of Duke of Aquitaine.
Great Edward bound in honour to maintaine
His owne inheritance, creates his Sonne
Young Edward Prince of that Dominion▪
Exhorts him bravely to defend his right,
And 'gainst the French for his just Title fight.
For which Prince Edward armes, and with a traine
Of valiant Lords prepares for Aquitaine.
Never did Fortune with more favour smile
On any armes; nor from this martiall Ile
Did ever army crosse the Seas before
That more triumphant did returne, or wore
A richer Garland from Bellona's tree.
There to maintaine young Edward's signiory
Brave Warwicke armes; who neare the Prince his side,
When Crescy field his mayden prowesse try'd,
Before had fought; and Suffolke, whose renowne
In many an hard adventure France had knowne.
His noble service Oxford tenders there;
And that redoubted Lord, that must appeare
In Poicteirs battell honours brightest starre
Lord Audley; Chandois in all feats of warre
And policies to none inferiour,
And then young Edward's chiefest Counsellour.
With these brave William Earle of Sarum, clad
In shining armes appeares; now not so sad
[Page]Since sage resolves had weaned fond desire,
And in his breast extinguish'd Cupid s fire;
A fire once swéet (alas) whilest lawes did seeme
T'allow his love, and power to favour him.
The sowrest Vertues did excuse his flame,
When he the beauties of that Princely Dame
Enjoy'd, as then he well might seeme to be
The envy of a Prince: much more is he
(Since reason did that passion quite convince)
Now truly growne the envy of a Prince.
Prince Edward sigh'd, and wish'd himselfe as free,
(When he beheld the cheere of [...]alisbury)
From that faire flame. One object kindled both,
But Edward's was not of so long a growth
As Salisburies; nor had beene ayded so
By powerfull Time, the passion to forgoe.
Forbeare a while to sound the Martiall noyse
Calliope, and tune thy gentler voyce
Soft Erato; declare what Princely love
Did then th [...] Heroike breast of Edward move.
Not many yeares had past, since by the lawes
Of holy Church, that long-depending cause
Betwixt Lord Holland, and Earle Mountague,
(Who both with power and eager claymes did sue
For Kent's faire Countesse) was on Holland's side
Decree'd, and by Pope Clement ratifi'd.
[Page]By which decree blest Holland, freed from strife,
Possession tooke of his admired wife.
And his bright Iewell now in publike wore;
Which from the Court had beene conceal'd before,
While that great suit depended, and unknowne
It was, what husband should the Lady owne.
Her tempting beauties (now th'ecclipse and pride
Of Englands Court) had love-sicke Edward spy'd.
The flames unseene his youthfull bosome burn'd;
His active thoughts, so cheerefull once, are turn'd
To pensive musings: company he flyes,
And, for his wonted Princely exercise,
And high discourse with martiall Lords, he loves
Retreats, sad musicke, and the silent groves.
Why did you gaze unhappy eyes (quoth he)
Too late on her? it is too soone for me
Because too late. The Lawes are false, that say
No time can barrea Prince. Debarr'd for aye
Am I. In what possession can they give,
Vnlesse in Love, a fit prerogative
For Princes to receive? where did she lye
While free she was, conceal'd from Edward's eye?
Was not her birth of height enough? and shee
A branch of England's royall family?
Her name Plantagenet, Earle Edmund's heire?
Did she not bring, together with that faire
[Page]And heavenly forme, a dower that might affright
Those Lords from courting of her, and invite
A Prince his highest flames? why is not she
Restor'd againe to her great family
From which th' ambitious love of Holland durst
To draw her maiden innocence at first?
Or else some forraine Monarch would from farre
Have come, perchance, to fetch a prize so rare.
A thousand Princely suitors for the fame
Of Spartan Helen's virgin beauties came
By deeds of armes their persons to endeare,
And by a warre reveng'd the rape of her.
As many ventrous youths, for such a Bride
As was the faire Hippodamea, dy'd.
At cheaper rate why did our climate set
Thy maiden blossome, faire Plantagenet?
Would thou hadst beene the prize of Chevalry,
For which great Princes might have come to try
Their manly prowesse; Edward might have worne
Thee then perchance: or thou (at worst) beene borne
From hence away to be a forraine Queene,
Nor had I here thy killing beauty seene.
Thus, as within a laurell Bower he sate,
Did Edward's love-sicke thoughts expostulate.
The twy-light then began; nor had night spred
Her sable mantle yet, though day were fled:
[Page]When lo before him (one on either hand)
Two Nymphs of more than humane visage stand.
The one was plaine, her looks compos'd and grave;
Yet seem'd a chearefull Majesty to have.
A mantle rough o're her tall shoulders hung;
Her undeck'd haire behind she earelesse flung.
Her name was Arete: on tother side
Stood Hedone her foe; her beauties pride
In all alluring amorous formes display'd▪
Transparant silkes her snow-white limbs array'd,
And Tyrian scarfes with gold embroyder'd o're.
The precious spoyles of every Easterne shore
Adorn'd her ivory necke and tresses faire.
From whence diffused odours fill'd the ayre.
Shee thus assailes the Prince: Enjoy the time
Sweet Prince, that Fortunes height, and Natures prime
Both meet to blesse thee with; and ravish'd see
What pleasures wait on youth and Royalty.
Thou hast the top of others wish, and may [...]st
Plucke those sweet fruits, which neither age can taste,
Nor low estate procure. Both fade away;
Not onely men, but Princes turne to clay.
Then take in time what ne're will come againe.
What is not used, was bestow'd in vaine.
Which prudent Nature never did intend
In any gift she gave. Why should'st thou spend
[Page]In toyles and hazards these thy happy dayes
To gaine that nothing, that vaine shadow, Praise?
Of which, as life no reall use can make,
So th' absent ghost, or senselesse grave can take
No joy at all. What e're the vulgar deeme,
Beleeve me, wisest men did ne're esteeme
That bubble Honour. When King Pyrrhus once
Resolv'd t' invade so many nations,
A vaine renowne by restlesse toyles to winne,
And make the ending of one warre beginne
Another still; wise Cyneas ask'd his Lord
What comfort all those labours should afford
His life at last. When all is overcome,
Wee'll live (quoth Pyrrhus) merrily at home.
So may you now (quoth he.) Why seeke you by
Those toyles, what now you have in certainty?
Nor could vaine Pyrrhus answer him, or name
A reall end of his ambitious ayme.
Then use thy time. But if thou onely strive
For so much fame as may more licence give,
And more sweet rellish to thy pleasures, know
Thou hast already, what thy age could doe,
Attain'd unto; thy worth enough is knowne,
And Crescy field with Bayes enow did crowne
Thy youthfull browes. Now reape the happy fruit.
With confidence pursue thy amorous suit.
[Page]Regard not lawes, nor popular ayre at all;
I'le worke thine ends, and Kents faire Countesse shall
Her bed and beauties yeeld to thy delight,
And meet thy wish. 'Twas I that did invite
The Spartan Dame to Paris armes, and led
The Queene of Love to young Anchises bed.
Can she refuse? can wedlock's aëry tye
Or that supposed vertue, Chastity,
(Poore names, which men, 'gainst natures free entent,
To rob themselves of pleasure did invent)
Resist those reall arguments, that be
Opposers here, and proudly plead for thee?
Alas, what tempted Lady can deny
Such love, fame, feature, youth and dignity?
Then weigh not rumour; sit not pining downe;
But freely take, what power can make thine owne.
With that she ceas'd; when thus faire Arete:
Heroike Prince, built up by Fate to be
Bright Honour's great example, England's fame,
And to succeeding times a glorious name,
Oh doe not staine thy high beginnings now,
Nor from that Noble path, which hitherto
Thy farre-admired youth has trod, to serve
Inglorious lusts and pleasures, doe not swerve.
Those fruits seeme sweet to such alone, as live
(Discerning not man's true prerogative)
[Page]Beasts lives; whose soules are drowned in the flesh,
Not capable of perfect happinesse,
Nor suffring those coelestiall seeds to grow,
Or spring in them, which God at first did sowe;
When purer Soules are not so much in thrall
To flesh; but that their high originall
They well discerne, and oft abstracted flye
In contemplation of eternity.
Which spurres them on to spend th' uncertaine times
They have, in glorious deeds, unstain'd with crimes:
And such, I know, is Edward's noble ayme;
Thou aemulat'st the ancient Sonnes of fame;
Thy worth securely may such stories love;
Thee great examples shame not, but approve.
Thou know'st that Honour has a chearefull face▪
And solid joy within; that Nere's base
Voluptuous feasts and lusts were not so sweet
As Cato's manly temperance: nor yet
So truly safe Sardanapalus ease
As were the labours of great Hereules.
Though Vertnes wayes seeme rough at first to be,
The habit makes them sweet; nor teaches she
Her noble schollers onely to endure
Cold, hunger, thirst, or labour: but secure
To overcome them, and to make all these
Their trophees rather than their grievances,
[Page]And not to feare what Death it selfe can doe,
Which Pleasures strength could never reach unto.
Oh give not way to this thy wanton flame,
Nor tempt the honour of that Princely Dame;
Love may hereafter blesse thee there, and may
Assist thy wishes in a lawfull way.
Great Chiefes, among their other markes of fame,
Have gain'd by noble Continence a name.
Thinke on that Roman Worthy, whose high story
Thou read'st so oft and aemulat'st his glory,
That Scipio, who first 'gainst Carthage fought.
And his great name from conquerr'd Affricke brought;
In heat of youth, as thou art now, was he
When Spaines new Carthage, then a Colony
Of Affricans, by warrelike force he wonne.
Great was the pillage of that wealthy Towne;
But 'mongst their store of captives, one there was
A noble Virgin, that did farre surpasse
The rest; her wondrous beauty did amaze
The Conquerors; no Roman eyes durst gaze
On that bright forme, but streight became her thrall
(Though Captive she.) The youthfull Generall
Began himselfe to feele Loves powerfull flame.
But that a noble vertue overcame,
And quench'd againe. With gentle words he chear'd
The maid, and all her love and fortunes heard;
[Page]Then to that Prince, to whom she was affy'd,
Deliver'd freely his unstained Bride.
The land admir'd him; and that act there wonne
As much as his successefull sword had done.
Of such a temper art thou made (I know)
Brave Prince; as much to thee as Scipio
Of deathlesse fame is meant by Destiny.
As much thy hand shall act in France, as he
In Spaine or Affricke, and a greater King
Then Syphax was, shalt thou to England bring.
Forsake not therefore Vertues wayes, who will
Thy best desires, thy highest aymes fulfill,
To her Heröike Edward's heart inclin'd;
And now resolv'd to cure his love-sicke mind
He musters all the thoughts of warre and fame.
The Nymphs were vanish'd; when brave Chandois came
Into his presence; he relates the newes
Of France; and great King Edward's purpose shewes.
Well does the Warre his father had design'd
For him to manage, suit blacke Edward's mind.
Those gallant Lords, that had resolv'd to fight
Against th' injurious French for Edward's right,
Are all prepar'd, and from the English shore
With Fates auspitious soone transported o're.
Whilest France from them must England's prowesse feele,
The King 'gainst Scotland drawes his vengefull steele
[Page]Enrag'd for Berwicks sacke. A furious rode
(Although their King a prisoner yet abode
In Edward's hands) some Scots had lately made.
Whom gold from France had tempted to invade
The North of England: Berwicke Towne they tooke,
The pillage gain'd; dismantled, and forsooke
The towne againe. Great Edward not content
To gaine his owne, unlesse the foes repent,
And dearely rue their rash presumption too,
Wi [...]h dreadfull force and fury marches through
The bowels of their land: for want of foes
The empty townes and walls he overthrowes.
Nor are religious Monasteries free
Or priviledg'd from his hostility.
And though to conquest of the land enclin'd,
(For all his right the Ballioll had resign'd
To him at Roxburgh) so he marched on,
That men might deeme by his invas [...]on
He did not meane his conquest to enjoy,
Or came not to possesse, but to destroy.
At last to Berwicke, when his vengefull ire
Againe was vanish'd, backe does he retire
To build her ruin'd walls more faire and strong,
And brings with him the Ballioll along,
I est left behind he might againe recall
His resignation: but no ayd at all
[Page]To Edward's purpose could his title bring,
Whom Scotland never would acknowledge King.
The peoples hearts did with King David live.
Those hearts to Edward, Ballioll could not give.
Nights silent charmes all eyes in slumber clos'd;
When lo, while Edward in his tent repos'd,
He dreamt before him armed Scotland stood;
Her martiall visage pale with losse of blood,
Which through her loosened helmet did appeare;
The furious Lion her broad shield did beare.
And thus with sober Majesty she spake
At last: why furious Edward dost thou make
These sad invasions? and so vainly striue
To ravish hence what warre shall never give,
My Crowne and Scepter, not ordain'd to be
The swords reward or spoyle of victory?
This truth thy Grandsire might at length have found,
Who did so oft my bleeding bosome wound
(Although not unreveng'd.) In threescore yeares
That last have passed, what alternate teares
For noble sonnes with me has England shed!
What crimson streames have we two sisters bled!
What mutuall wounds have thy sterne Grandsiers blade,
My warrelike Bruce, and thou, great Edward, made!
Yet all in vaine. No conquest can unite
Whom our great God is purpos'd to invite
[Page]A sweeter way to bonds of unity.
This knot a Monarch's happy birth must tye:
Although before those Halcyon dayes (alas.)
Shall many yeares and strange adventures passe.
Thy seed commixt with ours shall then enjoy
What battels cannot purchase, but destroy.
Blew Neptunes armes, that compasse both these lands,
And now are cruell lists, to joyne our hands
As combatants, and make the Ile a stage
Of our divided Nations warre and rage,
Shall then embrace us as a marriage ring.
My royall James shall to this Iland bring
By birth, as well as by his reigne a peace.
All rapine, theft, and barbarous feuds shall cease,
Which now our borders doe so much infest.
And after him, more to confirme those blest
And Halcion dayes, shall Charles from heaven be sent,
Whose pious, just, and temp rate government
Shall teach the world that peacefull Vertues bring
As true and lasting honour to a King
As by victorious warres can be obtain'd,
Or by the blood of slaughter'd Nations gain'd.
That they more sweetly set a Monarch forth:
As Aristides and good Cato's worth
Deserve more solid and enduring praise
Then Marius triumphs or great Pompey's Bayes.
[Page]My ransom'd King home to his Kingdome send,
And these so bloody jarres (and bootlesse) end.
Strive not 'gainst Fate. With that she vanished.
While Edward wak'd, lay musing on his bed,
A messenger arrived at the tent,
That from his sister, Scotland's Queene, was sent,
Who su'd for her beloved Lord's release.
Great Edward gan relent, and termes of peace
Resolv'd t' embrace, fates onely did ordaine
That David there a prisoner should remaine
Till he in woes a partner find, and see
A greater King in that captivity,
That, weighing well the losse of potent France,
He may the more excuse warres fatall chance.
Past Touraine now the Prince of Wales was come,
And through Poictou to Burdeaux marching home,
After so many great atchievements done,
So many Townes and stately Cities wonne,
His men enrich'd, the French endammag'd more
Then all th'incursions that had beene before
Could make them feele; when th'open hand of warre
(Though uncontroll'd it let him passe so farre)
Beside Poictiers presents it selfe, to stay
This youthfull Lion and redeeme the prey.
Or else kind Fortune thought the prey to be
Too meane for her blacke Edward's dignity;
[Page]Nor had the forts, the Cities he had wonne,
As strong Narbon, and stately Carcason
With all the pillage gain'd (in her esteme)
Or fame or danger great enough for him:
Vnlesse this wondrous battell had beene fought,
From which a captive Monarch should be brought
With fame as great to him, as e're before
One field could give to any Conquerour.
Few were Prince Edward's troops; King Iohn of France
Arm'd with his kingdomes choycest puissance,
And all the flower of French Nobility,
With a resolve unfortunate, though high,
Pursu'd the Prince; to make him that sad day
A deare account for all his voyage pay.
His passages they cut off every way,
In hope to seize what they esteem'd their prey,
But prov'd too strong for their weake armes to hold.
So when Getulian hunters too too bold
A furious Lion round about beset,
And will not let him scape; they vainly whet
The beast's high courage; whose collected ire
(To them as deadly as enclosed fire)
Breakes forth at last; his danger anger moves,
And fatall onely to the hunters proves.
Not farre from Poictiers towne brave Edward was,
And there encamp'd, nor further could he passe,
[Page]Nor longer shun the battels fatall stroke.
Him there King Iohn's huge army overtooke.
His wisely seated campe on every side
Was both by paines and Nature fortifi'd.
Thicke Vines and bushes round had fenc'd the place
Hard for the French Cavallery to passe.
With poore eight thousand there entrench'd he lyes
Against six times as many enemies;
And disadvantag'd so, a courage shew'd
As great as was the fortune that ensu'd.
Men knew not which to wonder at, that he
With such a strength durst hope for victory,
Or that he gain'd it; that he stood the blow,
Or that he gave so great an overthrow.
The Cardinall of Perigortin vaine
Had strived long by treaties to detaine
King Iohn's resolved fury from the fight,
(As much bewailing Edward's wofull plight.)
In vaine had Edward offred to restore
All townes and forts that he had gain'd before,
And satisfie for all the dammage done.
But Fate (to worke his fall) had blinded Iohn,
No other termes will be accepted now
But that Prince Edward with a hundred moe
His chiefest Knights, and noblest in the field
Should to his hands themselves as prisoners yeeld.
[Page]These base conditions Edward scornes to take,
And to the King returnes defiance backe.
His valiant troops agree, resolv'd to dye,
Or spite of a odds to gaine a victory.
Whom thus their most undaunted Prince bespake:
Brave Countreymen, if I have skill to take
Presage of future fortune: when I see
Your lookes your not despairing industry,
Which, all the time that our vaine treaties were,
About your campe could worke with such a cheare,
Me thinkes I swell with hopes; nor could be sad
If twice as many that proud army had.
But that I know their numbers fright not you,
I could, brave souldiers, by example show
How uselesse thronging numbers prove in warre.
Then why should Iohn presume on that so farre
To make such proud conditions, as that we
For feare of him should choose captivity?
And yeeld our selves as prisoners to the foe,
Before the chance of warre have made us so?
By which our honour we had quite forgone,
Honour our Countries Iewell, not our owne,
By her entrusted to us, which when I
Forget to keepe, let me unvalu'd dye.
How great a price is on this battell set!
If we subdue, no army ever yet
[Page]In all the books of fame was honour'd more:
A richer Bayes no Nation ever wore:
But if we dye, those conquering souldiers,
Whom bleeding France has often selt, and feares,
Survive in England our revenge to take.
But God, that gives all victories, can make
Our owne swords do't. There is no souldier here
But does already some French trophee weare.
Here fight those armes, who from the Norman warres,
From Brittaines conquest brought victorious scarres,
Those noble names, whom Crescy field renown'd,
And Sluce before with Navall Garlands crown'd.
Then by such armed friends environ'd, why
Should I at all despaire of victory?
The Prince had done; th' undanted souldiers show
By cheerefull signes, they dare abide the foe.
Too confident of victory King John
In three large battels drawes his army on,
On fire to charge, nor could his heat forbeare;
When he, that led the first Battalia there,
His brother Orleance with sage advice
Thus spake: oh Sir, forbeare your enemies
A while: deferre the dayes uncertaine chance,
And let this conquest cost no blood of France.
We need not fight at all; the famish'd foe
Our strengths environ round, he cannot goe
[Page]To forrage now, nor fetch provision in.
To feele that want already they begin,
It will become their wish on swords to dye,
And mix their ruine with our tragaedy.
But why should we (against a Christian hoast)
Refuse that conquest, that no blood will cost?
And rather hasten in their tragicke fall
To beare a part? without a wound at all
The captive Prince shall be at your command.
Then why should you with danger thrust your hand
To quench that flame, that would it selfe expire,
And battell more than victory desire?
Sound was the Dukes advice; brave Edward's day
In midd'st of Fates had vanished away,
Nor so had headlesse France beene over-runne
Had that beene follow'd; but unhappy Iohn▪
Whom Fate had blinded, thus in wrath replyes:
Does that poore handfull of the enemies
Affright your courage brother? can you weigh
'Gainst such a prize the danger? to what day
Should France her fortune ever trust, if here
She should misdoubt her swords? and feeding feare
By such flye courses seeke to steale renowne,
Not take it boldly, as our Nation
Have ever us'd? if famine, not the sword
Should here to us a victory afford,
[Page]The boasting English, who so oft of late
'Gainst us have prov'd in battell fortunate
Even in our kingdomes bosome, would not know
Whither the French could winne by sword or no.
With that the signal's given. In full carriere
They charge that little English band; who there
With well collected spirits stand, t' abide
Their fiercest onset: and on every side
Returne sharpe death, and furious force for force.
Their mortall arrowes gall th' approaching horse.
Nor is the chevalry of France o'rethrowne
By th' English archers onely: but their owne
Rash fury helpes to draw their ruine on,
And on themselves does execution.
In vines, shrubs, bushes, that environ'd round
Prince Edward's armies well-elected ground,
Th' entangled horse with miserable fate
Their riders and themselves praecipitate,
And to their foes become an easie spoyle;
(As beasts of greatest courage in a toyle
Ensnar'd, almost without resistance dye)
While 'gainst the rest that stand, the archers ply
Their fatall taske: the wounded horses fall
Foule on their fellowes every where; through all
The troope reignes nothing but confusion.
Those chevalliers, that came so bravely on,
[Page]And seem'd themselves enow the day to gaine,
In this disorder tumbled downe are flame;
Nor can so few of English hands suffice
To execute their routed enemies.
Now wondrous sad the spectacle was growne;
In all her foulest shapes was horror showne.
The mangled limbs of riders, that of late
Were proudly mounted, by praeposterous fate
Beneath the horses bloodyed hoofes are trod.
With heapes confus'd the mourning fields are strow'd;
The dikes are fill'd with slaughter, while the blood
Of men and horses make one purple flood,
As if in nature they had beene the same,
And from the wounds of slaughter'd Centaures came.
Now to the French infantery at last
(Which farre behind the horse King Iohn had plac'd,
And vainly thought that in the action
He should not need their hands; the horse alone
Would gaine the day) the furious warre was brought.
But they, alas, amaz'd before they fought
To see the horsemens wondrous overthrow,
And now assaulted by the conquering foe
Gave ground apace: The first hot charge that brave
And valiant Lord renowned Audley gave;
Who to performe a noble vow, in deeds
Almost the prowesse of a man exceeds;
[Page]And like the stroke of Jove's resistlesse thunder
Shoots forth, and breaks the strongest ranks in sunder.
Here in the thickest throng of enemies
Like Thracian Mars himselfe, blacke Edward plyes
Deaths fatall taske: here noble Warwicke gives
A furious onset: there brave Suffolke strives
T'outgoe the formost; aemulations fire
Is kindled now, and blazes high; desire
Of honour drownes all other passions there,
Not in the Chiefes alone; each souldier
In that small army feeles bright honours flame,
And labours to maintaine his proper fame.
Ne're was a battell through all parts so fought,
Nor such high wonders by an handfull wrought.
White Victory, that scar'd above beheld
How every English hand throughout the field
Was stain'd with blood; amaz'd to see the day,
And that so few should carry her away.
The fields no more their verdure can retaine,
Enforced now to take a purple staine,
And be obscur'd with slaughter, while the wounds
Of France manure her owne unhappy grounds,
Where mixed with Plebeian funerals
Her greatest Princes dye: There Burbon falls,
And Marshall Clermont welters in his gore:
There noble Charney's beaten downe, that bore
[Page]The standard royall that sad day; here dyes
Athens great Duke, there valiant Eustace lyes,
Who, as a badge of highest honour, wore
A Chaplet of bright pearles, that had before
(When by King Edward in a skirmish, neere
To Calleis, he was taken prisoner)
As testimony of his prowesse show'd
Beene by that royall enemy bestow'd.
But 'mongst so many noble funerals
Of France, one starre of English prowesse fals
From his bright sphaere, with sorrow to allay
The high successe of that victorious day;
Renowned Audley, that so long had fought
In front of all the English power, and wrought
High feats at Armes, by many wounds bereft
Of spirits, sinks downe at last; but is not left
To th'Enemy; foure valiant Squires engage
Themselves for him against the fiercest rage
Of foes, and beare their wounded Lord away.
Whom gently downe in freshest ayre they lay
Past hope of life, alas, but gentle Death
So long gave respite to his latest breath
Till he his Countries full renowne might see,
And Edward grac'd with perfect victory.
Great are the French Battalia's, and in roome
Of those that fall, so oft fresh souldiers come,
[Page]So oft the bloody fight's renew'd, that now
The English weary with subduing grow,
And 'ginne to faint, opprest with odds so great.
When lo, to make the victory compleat,
Six hundred bowmen (whom to that entent
Before the battell the brave Prince had sent
Abroad well mounted now come wheeling o're
The field, and charge the French behind so sore,
As with confusion did distract them quite;
And now an execution, not a fight
Ensues; all rowted that great army flyes
A prey to their pursuing enemies.
With his disheartned battels Orleance
Forsakes the field; with him the heire of France,
Young Charles of Normandy, and thousands moe
Not overthrowne but frighted by the foe.
Nor are the English, though enow to gaine
The day, enow in number to maintaine
So great a chase; and not so well suffice
To follow, as subdue their enemies.
Nor yet (which more declar'd the conquest sent
From heaven alone, to strike astonishment
In overweening mortals, and to show
Without that ayd how little Man can doe)
Are all the English conquerors in field
Enow to take so many French as yeeld,
[Page]Nor to receive the Prisoners that come.
Though some in field are ransom'd and sent home;
Yet moe from thence are captive borne away
Than are the hands that wonne so great a day.
Yet did the King, almost forsaken quite
By all his men, maintaine a noble fight,
As if ashamed to out-live the sad
Discomfiture, which his owne rashnesse made.
Nor did his faultring hands even then forget
To play a souldiers part, appearing yet
Worthy the feare of his assaling foe,
While death attended every furious blow.
Too late that prowesse comes; and he in vaine
By personall valour hopes to cure againe
That malady which ill conduct begate.
No souldiers valiant deed can expiate
A Generall's folly; nor one private hand
Redeeme the errours of a King's command.
Thither to crowne their actions high successe
Th' ambitious valours of the English presse
With greedy hope to seize the royall prey,
The greatest prize of that victorious day.
But too too great it seem'd for one alone,
By many hands the King is seiz'd upon.
Nor had it cost lesse than a civill warre
To judge whose right so great a prisoner
[Page]Should prove in field, and that rich claime decide▪
On English swords had many English dy'd,
And in that storme the captive King of France
Himselfe had perish'd, had not timely chance
Presented rescue; noble Warwicke came,
And from that rabble in Prince Edward's name
Demanded him; whose presence seem'd to bring
Not thraldome then but safety to the King.
There was Prince Philip tane, his youngest sonne,
Who, when his brothers all were fled and gone,
Still by his fathers side the fight maintain'd,
And in that field the name of Hardy gain'd.
And now the swords sad worke was ended quite,
When, that the weary'd souldiers, who from fight
Or from the chase returned backe, might spye
Their place of rendevous, display'd on high
Vpon an hill Prince Edward's banner stood.
To which the souldiers smear'd with dust and blood
Laden with spoyles and wealthy prisoners come.
Some leading three in bands, some foure, to some
Did five belong; that whosoe're had beene
A stranger to the battell, and there seene
Them altogether, had supposed then
The Campe to be of French, not Englishmen▪

Annotations upon the fifth Booke.

a Concerning the slaughter of this miraculous battell of Poictiers, and the numbers of which both Armies consisted, we finde thus, (for though Historians differ, it is not much.) The Prince his Army contained not in all above eight thousand; of whom the greatest part were Archers; the French King (according to most Wr [...]rs) had threescore thousand; and no writer at all speakes the number much lesse. The slaughter on their side was exceeding great; for besides fifty Lords (of whom the chiefe were Peter of Burbon Duke of Athens, high Constable of France, Iohn Clermont Marshall; George of Charney, Lord great Chamberlaine, &c.) there fell about seventeene hundred Knights, Esquires, and Gentlemen bearing coats of Armes; and of com­mon souldiers there dyed about six thousand in the field, besides those that fell in the chase, or were beaten downe under the walls of Poictiers. The list of Prisoners com­prehended these great names, Iohn King of France, Phi­lip his Sonne, afterward Duke of Burgoigne, the Arch­bishop of Sens, Iames of Burbon Earle of Ponthieu, Iohn of Artois, Earle of Eu; Charles his brother, Earle of Longuevile; Charles Earle of Vendosme; the Earles [Page] of Tankervile, Salbruch, Nassaw, Dampmartine, La-Roch, with many other great Lords, and about two thou­sand Knights, Esquires, and Gentlemen bearing armou­ries. Many Prisoners had beene ransomed in the field, and some let goe, for feare of the danger that might have ensued by retaining a greater number of Prisoners than themselves were.

THE REIGNE OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.
The sixth Booke.

Argument VI.
With fire and sword King Edward uncontroll'd
Wasts wretched France: Prince Edward's love is told▪
King Iohn of France is ransom'd home againe.
The Prince is sent to governe Aquitaine.
THe chase together with the day was done,
And all return'd: in his pavilion
Brave Edward feasts the Royall prisoner.
At which as noble did the Prince appeare
As erst in battell, and by sweetnesse wonne
As great a conquest as his sword had done.
[Page]No faire respect, or honour, that might cheere
That Kings afflicted breast, was wanting there,
No reverence nor humble curtesie,
That might preserve his state and dignity
But Edward shew'd at full; and at the feast
In person waited on his captive guest.
But what content, what object fit could Fate
Present to comfort such a changed state,
Or cheere the Kings perplexed soule at all?
New is the wound; nor doe his thoughts recall
A long-past glory, where the hand of time
(Best cure of griefe) might ease the smart; but him,
Whose state the morning Sunne had seene so high,
This night beholds in sad captivity.
His restlesse passions rowling to and fro
No calme admit; when thus his noble foe
Prince Edward spake; Great King for such you are
In my thoughts still, what-e're the chance of warre
Have lately wrought against you here) forgive
Your humble kinsman's service, if I strive
To ease your sorrow, and presume to doe
What is too much for me, to counsell you;
Doe not deject your Princely thoughts, or thinke
The Martiall fame that you have gain'd, can sinke
In one successelesse field; or too much feare
Your Nations honour should be tainted here.
[Page]Mens strengths and honours we most truly try
Where fields are fought with most equality.
But God was pleas'd to make this dayes successe
The more miraculous, that we the lesse
Might challenge to our selves, and humbly know
That in so great and strange an overthrow
Some secret judgement of our God was wrought:
And that the sword of heaven, not England, fought.
All forreine Nations will expound it so,
That are by noble stories taught to know
What your French armes in Easterne lands have done,
What trophees you have rais'd, what Garlands wonne
Against the faithlesse Saracens, whose wounds
So oft have flow'd on Iuda's holy grounds,
And stain'd with purple Siria's swarthy face.
And can the fortune of one field disgrace
A Nation of so great Nobility?
And for your selfe, great King, all hystorie
That shall hereafter to the world make knowne
Th'event of Poictiers battell, shall renowne
Your personall prowesse; which appear'd so high
As justly seem'd to challenge victory,
Had not God's secret providence oppos'd:
But though his will, great Sir, have thus dispos'd,
Your state remaines, your person and your fame
Shall in my humble thoughts be still the same.
[Page]And till my father see your face, to show
How he respects your worth and state; to you
As to himselfe, were he in person here,
In all a observance Edward shall appeare.
The noble King a while amaz'd to see
Victorious youth so full of Courtesie,
At last replyes: Brave Coozen, you have showne
Your selfe a man built up for true renowne;
And, as in action of the warres, to be
This ages Phoenix in humanity.
Why doe you wrong me thus, as to enthrall
Me doubly? not insulting o're my fall
You rob me Coozen, of that sole renowne
Which I, though vanquish'd, might have made mine owne
To beare adversity. I might have shew'd,
Had you beene proud, a passive fortitude;
And let the world, though I were fallen, see
What spirit I had in scorning misery.
But you have rob'd me of that honour now,
And I am bound in honour to allow
That noble theft, content (since such are you)
To be your captive and your debtor too.
And since my Starres ordain'd a King of France
Arm'd with such odd, so great a puissance,
Must in a fatall field be lost, to raise
So great a trophee to anothers praise:
[Page]I am best pleas'd it should advance thy story,
And Iohn's dishonour be Prince Edward's glory.
What love the vertues of a noble foe
May winne, did that great Persian Monarch show,
Who pray'd, if he must from his kingdome fall,
That Alexander might succeed in all.
The Prince all signes of humble love exprest;
And when the banquet ended, to his rest
Conducts the King, if any rest at all
His thoughts could take after so great a fall.
Next morne had cheerd the earth with Phoebus light.
And from the Pole remov'd the damps of night
When with his hoast victorious Edward goes
Marching along without controll of foes.
Neere to the walls of Poictiers towne he past.
Who shut their gates, and all their guards had plac'd
For feare of him. But no such thought had he.
Enough of miracle it seem'd to be
If with so many prisoners, and so great
A spoyle, that small enriched hoast could get
Safe to their journey's end. Through all Poictou,
And through the County of Xantoigne they goe,
The French admiring, but resisting not,
Till to the river side at Blays they got.
Which with their wealth and prisoners all they past,
And at faire Burdeaux safe arriv'd at last:
Sad fame before had into England brought
The Prince his danger. What amazed thought
Could hope (alas) for conquest there? or who
Durst thinke that valour disadvantag'd so
Could worke it selfe a passage? feare possest
All English hearts; and great King Edward's breast
Revenge had entred in as horrid height
As France could feare, or that great cause invite.
How many Cities had he doom'd to sacke?
And men to death? but Fame could not be slacke.
Fate would not suffer England long to erre;
Nor such a dayes triumphant joy deferre.
But on a sudden, as the golden Sunne,
When darkest thunder-clouds are newly gone,
Shoots forth againe in all his glorious light,
That men amazed scarce dare trust their sight,
They heare of Poictiers battell, of the high
And strange successe. But incredulity
A while the freedome of that joy controlls,
For feare of too much surfetting their soules
With such a change. So slowly they receive
Th' unlook'd for newes, and by degrees beleeve,
That even their eyes are satisfi'd as soone
As are their eares almost; nor had the Moone
Thrice fill'd her orbe before (to second fame)
With that great King victorious Edward came.
[Page]Oh how to Plimmouth, where the Paince arriv'd
From every part the people flock'd, and striv'd
Betimes to kisse that Martiall hand, and see
So great a prize of one dayes vi [...]ory
Now safe at home! as much was all the way
From thence to London, as their progresse lay,
With showes adorn'd, and thronging people fill'd▪
Where (equall to his prowesse) they beheld
The Prince his goodnesse; how he humbly rode
Below the King; no pride his gesture show'd:
But such respect as if he did not bring
In triumph thither, but attend a King.
Where, noble Edward, shall we find for thee
A paralell in true humanity?
What ancient Prince or moderne ever shew'd
So sweet a temper joyn'd with fortitude?
What Conqueror did ever use successe
More modestly, or staine his fortune lesse?
Imperiall Rome in her most vertuous age,
(When wisest writers durst by strong presage
Affirme the worlds sole Empire due to be
Not to her strength, but her morality)
Knew no such vertue to great Princes fals.
How farre unlike it her proud Generals
In that inhumane pompe of Triumphs dealt,
Jugurtha, Syphax, and great Perseus felt.
[Page]And yet what Roman Army e're could boast
A nobler conquest than thy English hoast
At Poictiers battell wonne? without Romes vice
Her greatest vertues thou didst aequalize
In that great act: and shew'dst, as then was try'd,
The Roman prowesse, not the Roman pride.
With joy as great, but more magnificence
Did London welcome her triumphant Prince,
Where great King Edward with all curtesie
Receives King Iohn of France; as if that he
Did aemulate the vertue of his sonne;
Or rather would approve what he had done;
And, by that noble moderation shew
Himselfe the stocke from whence Prince Edward grew.
Within his sumptuous hall at Westminster
He entertaines and feasts them all▪ and there
The pensive King with gentle speeches cheeres.
To all the other princely prisoners
The like respect the Lords of England give;
And at the boord in full-crown'd goblets strive
To banish from their breasts all thoughts of care.
O're which old Heroes fortunes, and the rare
Events of ancient battels they relate.
So o're the Wine in massie Phthian plate
Talk'd great Achilles in his tent at night;
When he the Grecian Princes did invite.
[Page]But he whose noble actions were become
The argument of every tongue, on whom
The greedy eyes of all were fixed there,
Prince Edward seemes himselfe of heavy cheere,
A greater captive in his owne sad thought,
Than those that he from Poictiers battell brought.
Nor could great Mars with all his honors heale
The wound that love had made. Deep sighs would steale
Sometimes from him, although with care represt,
And speake the inward passions of his breast.
Among the sparkling beauties, that resort
More to enlighten this triumphant Court,
His Love-ficke eyes doe often wander round
To find (although he feare to find his wound)
Kents beauteous Countesse. But no where at all
Does she appeare, nor was the festivall
Grac'd with her presence. Soone had she beene spy'd
If there; nor could so bright a starre be hid.
But missing her, his other passions rise.
A thousand doubts and jealous feares surprize
His loving breast at once. Alas what crime
Of Fate should he suspect? at such a time
Of Courtly state and high magnificence,
What cruell cause should keepe the Lady thence?
Faine would he know, yet blushes to enquire;
And, though he burne, still strives to hide the fire.
[Page]As many men whose sudden ruine's nigh,
Have beene in height of all their jollity:
And some have beene observ'd in pensive mood
Iust then, when Fate contrives their greatest good
Even so it fares with Princely Edward here;
Who feares the worst, and cannot thinke how neere
Th'accomplishment of his desires should be.
Till to remove the sad uncertainty,
Some Lords discoursing, doe by chance relate
How noble Holland was deceas'd of late.
A sudden change in Edward's lookes appeares;
Againe the passions alter; doubts or feares
(Since now to every eye the cause is plaine
That did the Countesse from this feast detaine)
No longer hold possession in his breast;
Love freely enters to displace the rest.
The Prince resolves his pleasing fuit to move,
And, spite of all opposers, gaine his love.
In Savoy Palace, when the feast is ended,
King John of France is lodg'd, and thence attended
In fitting state to Windsor Castle, there
T' enjoy what sports the season of tho yeare
Would yeeld; what games the Countrey could present
To give a King's perplexed thoughts content.
And David, King of Scotland, that ten yeare
Had beene detaid'd in England prisoner,
[Page]Is ransom'd home, since England seemes to be
Secur'd from France by Iohn's captivity.
Vnhappy France, whilest England nothing knowes
But joyes and triumphs, now o'rewhelm'd with woes
Sits like a mourning widow, wailes her fate;
And shee that was the pride of Europe late,
Is fall'n from all her glories, and become
The pitty of astonish'd Christendome;
Her bosome fill'd with sad confusion;
And rebell members, while the head is gone,
Doe from their safe and wholesome order fall.
The Royall City Paris most of all
Is out of joynt, that should the rest redeeme.
Sicke even to death does this great kingdome seeme.
Nor can the Cure be sudden; for the Sunne
Five times through his coelestiall signes must runne,
Before King Iohn of France be ransom'd home.
Yet healthier farre for France in time to come
Shall this Confusion and long sicknesse prove.
(By such unlook'd-for wayes the Powers above
Doe worke in their disposing Providence)
Wise Charles the Dauphine by experience
Of those disordred and rough times, shall gaine
So true a wisdome, as his prosperous reigne
Shall cure againe the wounds of bleeding France;
His quiet gowne her state shall re-advance,
[Page]Recovering all by policy alone,
Which English swords in those fam'd battels wonne,
But Love with Honour strives to beare a part;
And cure what he had wounded, Edward's heart.
Within the house, since her deare husbands Fate
Had Kent's faire Countesse beene immur'd of late,
Her mourning times not fully yet expir'd.
To comfort her, as thus she sate retir'd,
The other Ladies daily doe resort.
There they discourse the triumphs of the Court;
Of every Princely prisoner they tell,
And on Prince Edward's worth and praises dwell.
Nor can the mourning Countesse chuse, how-e're
Her times may seeme, but with true pleasure heare
His noble story told: from her faire breast
Sometimes a sigh would steale, not like the rest,
Nor ought of kinne to those sad sighes at all
She us'd to fetch for Holland's funerall,
A Blush would seize her then, as if shee knew
That stranger-sigh encroach'd on Holland's due.
But yet she knew not truly whence it came,
Nor did the sparke so soone begin to flame,
And teach her bosome that the tyrant Love
As many teares, and sighes as deepe can move
As death by dearest funerals can doe.
Loves winged god into her chamber, though
[Page]Hung with so sad a darknesse, and unfit
For such a guest, had tane his secret flight,
As once into the darke Elysian grove
Among the silent ghosts, as if he strove
To show no place so melancholly were
But that his god-head could or change or cheere.
Love-care in time his place 'bove sorrow takes,
And by degrees another watching makes
Her pale, and reaves the quiet of her breast.
And whensoe're she takes her flumbering rest,
No dreames of death are sent: Before her eyes
Moves Edward's image in triumphant wise,
Like Liber clad in golden armes, when from
The spiced Inde he came with conquest home,
And yoked Tygers his proud chariot drew
She dreamt (and could not chuse but wish it true,
Nor did th'event prove lesse) that Love appear'd
In such a shape as she had often heard
The Boy described, and thus gently spake
To her at last: Now is the time to take
What was ordain'd thee, faire Plantagenet,
Fate pity'd thee, and would no longer let
That Royall blood and heavenly beauty lye
Ecclipsed in a private family.
Let all thy thoughts of sorrow now expire
For Holland's death, and cherish Edward's sire
[Page]As did thy fathers, so thy seed shall reigne;
And thou descended from the Crowne, againe
Art bound to propagate the royall stemme,
And beare an Heire to England's Diadem.
But when the Countesse from this flattering sleepe
(For such it seem'd) was waked, sighing deepe
Shee' gan accuse Dayes too ambitious thought,
That had by night so vaine a vision brought;
Resolv'd to checke that thought for evermore,
And rather court the sorrow, which before
Her breast had lodg'd. She studies to recall
Her mourning, and on Holland's funerall
Againe to fix, thinking that griefe more free
From torture, than an hopelesse love can be.
Why was I curs'd (quoth she) by envious Fate?
Did not the mournings of a widow'd state
Seeme sad enough to punish me, unlesse
A passion more than franticke should possesse
My breast, and wound it deeper than it was?
Why should I hope for Edward's love (alas?)
Or fondly thinke the heire of England's Crowne,
And such a Prince as he, high in renowne
As in his Royall birth, and now become
The onely Theame of praise in Christendome,
On whom the greatest Monarchs would bestow
Their fairest daughters, should descend so low
[Page]As give that pretious love to me, and grace
The beauties of a widowes waning face?
Too much ambition had it beene for me
To hope, nay thinke of such a dignity
In my fresh Virgin flower, and blooming prime:
Much more (alas) in this autumnall time,
When like a sully'd Lilly, or a Rose
Too fully blowne, my fading beauty showes.
That for a Prince his love is too much wasted,
Whose sweets two subjects have already tasted.
Yet Edward's lookes, and frequent visits here
Seeme to betoken Love, if with uncleare
And partiall eyes my state I did not see,
And so suppose his noble Courtesie
To be Love-passion. But (alas) we all
Are our owne flatterers; and I mis-call
That Love, which is a kinsmans kind regard.
Oh would that name of nearenesse could be spar'd!
In that againe, as in his high estate,
Am I debarr'd from such a blessed Fate,
And by that nearenesse farther from his love▪
But Dispensations of the Church remove
Those obstacles, and nearer kindred tye.
Oh wherefore wander my wild thoughts so high!
Sinke downe for aye, false hope; disturbe no more
The quiet griefe that I enjoy'd before.
Thus would she strive those fancies to remove;
But his kind visits still renew'd her love;
And as her flame encreas'st, his noble heart
Was more and more pierst with Loves golden dart,
Vntill at last Prince Edward, to prevent
All others, plainly told his kind entent;
And both their wishes in so full a joy
Are met, too high for fortune to destroy,
Though she a while deferre their Nuptiall rites,
And growing warre breake off Loves sweet delights.
For while the French delay by treaties vaine
The ransome of their King; sad France againe
Is forc'd to feele revengefull Edward's hands;
Who with a great and powerfull army lands
At Calleis, marching through the heart of France.
In three Battalia's his whole puissance
Is drawne along; himselfe conducting one:
Another led by his renowned sonne:
The third by Henry, Duke of Lancaster.
'Gainst whom while no resisting foes appeare,
They wast and spoyle the Countrey: without fight
The greatest Cities to his force submit;
Burgundia's Duke at Edward's conquering hands
With money buyes the safety of his lands.
Aras is tane, with many townes beside.
Within faire Paris strongly fortifi'd
[Page]With all his forces Charles the Dauphin lay;
Whom Edward dares to triall of the day.
But wary Charles instructed by the sad
Successe his father [...]d his Grandsire had,
Within the walls [...]ntaines his army now;
Nor to the hazard of one fatall blow
Against the English dares he trust his strength.
Whence Edward, after his vaine stay, at length
Drawes backe his forces, when no hope he sees
At all of fighting with his enemies.
Much lesse he hop'd to force a Towne so strong.
Wasting the wretched Countries all along
As farre as Chartres uncontroll'd he goes;
But there, although no mortall strength oppose,
God's mighty b hand does th'English hoast dismay.
Blacke on a sudden growes the troubled day.
Heavens cheerefull face wrapt in a pitchy cloud
No beame sheds forth, while cracks of thunder loud
Rend all the ayre, and in the frighted eyes
Of every souldier horrid lightning flyes
In more than usuall manner; and anon
Like murdring stones throwne from a Castle downe
Vpon th'assailants fatall hailestones fall
Of such amazing greatnesse over all
The English army, that nor man nor horse
Is able to endure their fatall force▪
[Page]But both together are beat downe and slaine,
While thousands dying strew the purple plaine.
The wretched Souldiers feele, but cannot see
The wondrous cause of this great tragedy▪
Some with amaze and feare are almost kill'd,
Some onely overthrowne: but all hearts fill'd
Withsad destruction, thinke the day of doome,
And dissolution of the world is come.
Or else surpriz'd with more particular feares,
They deeme (alas) some winged Messengers
Of God above against their campe are sent
T' inflict on them immediate punishment.
As once an Angell sent from God did smite
The hoast of proud Senacherib by night.
Great Edward sadly trembles, every where
Enforc'd his dying souldiers grones to heare.
But when the horror of the storme was gone,
The darkenesse vanish'd, and bright day-light shone
On them againe, and had discover'd all,
His heart relents, and in the pity'd fall
Of his poore men he thinks he truly sees
God's wrath for all those Christian tragedies
Which his victorious sword in France had wrought,
And all the woes he had on Scotland brought.
Never before did Edward's pensive breast
Truly revolve how tragike is the best
[Page]Successe that warre 'gainst Christian lands affords,
What impious wounds, his sadly conquering swords
Had made in Europe; all the battels wonne
(Since first that fatall title he begunne
To set on foot) are running in his thought;
Now Crescy, Poictiers, Halidowne are brought
Into his fad remembrance; and almost
He wishes all his triumphs had beene lost
Rather than with such horrid slaughter wonne.
For which in paenitent Devotion
His knees in Chartres Temple Edward bowes,
Forgivenesse begs for what is past, aud vowes
Thenceforth the fury of his sword shall cease,
And he with wretched France conclude a peace
On easier termes then erst he stood upon,
Home to his land restoring ransom'd Iohn.
Few months had past, before this good entent
Of pious Edward found accomplishment▪
At Brettigny so well on either side
The Agents dealt, that peace was ratifi'd
On steddy Articles; and John, whom here
Five painted Springs had seene a prisoner,
Is to his native land returned backe▪
With kind embraces the two Monarchs take
Their leave at Calleis. With a Royall heart
So full of love did John from Edward part▪
[Page]So well his usage pleased him, that he
Entends againe in noble courtesie
To visit England, and for fav [...]rs done
To thanke great Edward and his Princely sonne.
The bloody stormes of warre away are blowne,
And white-wing'd peace from heaven descended down
To cheare faire France her late afflicted state;
Whilst England's quiet Court does celebrate
At once two Princely Nuptials with as high
A state as may befit their dignity.
The Paphian Queene in all her smiles appeares.
His purple robe the pleased Hymen weares,
When brave Prince Edward (now all lets remov'd)
Weds that faire Countesse he so long had lov'd:
And Iohn of Gaunt enjoyes the wealthy heire
Of Noble Henry, Duke of Lancaster.
The State at home well setled, to employ
Prince Edward's worth and raise his dignity,
He with his Princesse, and a noble traine
Is sent away to governe Aquitaine.

Annotations upon the sixth Booke.

a Concerning the lowly demeanour of Edward the blacke Prince toward King Iohn of France, after hee [Page] had taken him Prisoner in the battell of Poictiers, and the Courteous reception, which King Edward gave him here in England, there were no Authors, either then or since, but did freely acknowledge▪ insomuch, as many yeares after, Guicciardine an Italian Writer, and there­fore indifferent to both Nations, speaking of the warres of Christendome in his time, when Francis the first King of France had beene taken prisoner at the battell of Pavie by the souldiers of Charles the fifth Emperour, and King of Spaine, and had long beene kept in hard du­rance in the Castell of Madrid, brings in King Fran­cis complaining of his unworthy usage, where compa­ring the mis-fortunes of King Iohn with his owne, and the wonderfull difference of both their entertainments, hee much extols the Courtesie of the English Nation, and condemnes the Spaniards insolence. And so much did that Courtesie worke upon the noble disposition of King Iohn, that (as many of that time thought) it occasioned his voluntary comming into England to visit King Ed­ward not many yeares after his releasement. Though o­ther occasions there might be of that journey, as the sel­ling of his affaires before his entended voyage to the holy Warres; and yet those perchance might well have beene performed by Embassadours. But howsoever it were, in the yeare 1364, and of King Edward's Reigne, the 38, this King Iohn came into England, and besides him two [Page] other Kings, the Kings of Scotland and of Cyprus; where the magnificence of the English Court was well expressed in feasting sumptuously three Kings at once. The King of Scotland, and the King of Cyprus, after they had dispat­ched their businesse, returned home to their owne king­domes: but King Iohn of France fell sicke, and dyed at London the yeare following. His death was much lamen­ted by King Edward, who solemnly attended his corps to Dover; from whence it was conveyed to Saint Denys, and entombed with his Ancestors.

b This miraculous storme of haile stones, which neere to Chartres fell upon King Edward's Army, was estee­med, by many of those times, an immediate Messenger of Gods wrath for all the Christian blood which King Ed­ward for many yeares had shed both in France and Scot­land. So great was the haile, and so violent the fall of it, that it felled horses to the ground, and slew above two thousand of the English Souldiers. King Edward himselfe was much astonished, and thought it no lesse than an imme­diate judgement of God; upon which in penitence hee per­formed many devotions, and on reasonable termes conclu­ded a peace with France; so that King Iohn was ranso­med, and returned home to his owne kingdome, after hee had remained a prisoner five yeares in England.

THE REIGNE OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD.
The seventh Booke.

Argument VII.
Prince Edward marches into Spaine to fight
'Gainst Henry, in deposed Pedro's right.
At Naveret he beats the strength of Spaine,
And sets Don Pedro in his Throne againe.
PRince Edward's honour was not mounted yet
Vp to her Zenith; Fate is in his debt
Another Garland, and from Aquitaine
Shee calls him forth againe; that conquer'd Spaine
May feele his noble prowesse, and advance
His fame as high as erst triumphed France.
[Page]The tyrant Pedro of Castile was by
His land depos'd for brutish cruelty,
Whose Crowne his Bastard-brother Henry gain'd.
At Burdeaux then the Prince of Wales remain'd,
Whose fame was spred through every land, and he
Esteem'd the noblest flower of Chevalry
That Europe boasted. To his Martiall Court
Deposed Pedro humbly does resort,
And weeping craves Prince Edward's ayd, to gaine
His right. That Pedro may his suit obtaine
Beside that bloods alliance that he brings,
The bad example of deposing Kings,
Perswades the Prince; and to that brave entent
His Father, great King Edward, gives consent.
At hand great troops of expert souldiers are,
Cashier'd of late from service of the warre;
Who now employment want, since troubles cease
By France and Englands late concluded peace.
Of those the Prince an a [...]my soone may take
For that great warre, which he entends to make;
And happily may free his Countrey too
From spoyle and rapine which they daily doe.
As much does Henry of Castile provide
To guard his late-gain'd Throne; and to his side
Has gotten many expert troops of France.
Bertram's their leader, to whose puissance
[Page]In future times, faire France so much shall owe.
The warre to Spaine must be removed now.
Yet there the French 'gainst English fight; wars rage
The same: and nothing alter'd but the stage.
The fortune too shall be the same; and they
In Spaine must grace victorious Edward's day.
The French must there before the English fall,
Nor shall the Climate change their fate at all.
To Bertram's Standard cashier'd souldiers flocke
From farthest Provence, Dauphine, Languedocke.
And other people arme; not they alone
That till the neighbouring fields, and dwell upon
Seines nearest banks: but those that see his head;
And from those mountaines where the Marve is bred;
Who gliding through the meadowes of Champaigne
In various windings falls into the Seine.
And they that live by Isdrus streame; who gets
Growth from so many rising rivolets,
Till he himselfe be swallow'd by the Rhone;
Who by so many large encreases growne
Rowles on his furious billowes, and in three
Faire channels fals into the mid-land Sea
From that faire Southerne shore, that bounds th'extent
Of France her rich and spacious continent.
To Edward's Standard with couragious hopes,
Beside▪ those active well-provided troops
[Page]That unto him from England crossed o're,
Arriving on the Aquitanian shore,
And with lowd clangor filling th' ayre of France,
The greatest part of Edward's puissance;
a From France her Northerne coast doe souldiers come,
And cashierd troops from farthest South; and from
The banks of Seure; those that neere the bounds
Of Aquitaine are bred, whose fertile grounds
Are farre together water'd by Dordonne;
And those that see the mouth of fam'd Garoone;
With souldiers dwelling on the farthest land
Of France; where those renowned mountaines stand,
(The bounds of Spaine) which, if we trust to fame,
Did from the faire Pyrene take their name.
All France in ayd of these two Spanish Kings
Is fill'd with streaming Ensignes now, and rings
Of warres alarmes; yet ne're more free from feares;
Shrill Trumpets sound th'unfrighted plow man heares,
And loves the noise; 'mongst drums the shepherd swains
Feed their faire flocks securely on the plaines,
And midd [...]st those seeming terrors joyfull are
To heare the sound of a departing warre.
So look'd the ancient Gaules then when sterne Fate
Was bent to wound great Romes divided state.
And mighty Caesar drew from thence at once
His there dispers'd, and wint'ring Legions.
[Page]When dreadfull Classicks in all parts were heard,
And threatning Eagles every where appear'd,
Yet they rejoyc'd, and saw in that stout hoast,
How great a danger left their quiet coast.
But while the chearefull Souldiers all prepare,
And Edward's thoughts are fixed on the warre,
His beauteous wife is sad; those starry eyes
Oft dimm'd with sorrowes clouds; nor can she prize
So much one conquests fame, or aëry praise,
As she his danger and his absence weighes;
And thinks how long a time (though he be grac'd
With victory) her feares and doubts must last.
Besides (alas) her tender breast abhorr'd
That savage Tyrant, in whose right her Lord
Himselfe adventures 'gainst the strength of Spaine,
And thus to him deep-sighing she began:
Though I should rather to my selfe deny
The happinesse of Edward's company
Than love it with so great presumption,
As, for mine owne delights, to hinder one
Of his resolves: yet pardon, dearest Lord,
If to mine owne desires I doe afford
One place in love: why shouldst thou march so farre
To find out danger? seeke a causelesse warre
When none provokes thy sword, compelling those,
That are not in their thoughts, to be thy foes?
[Page]England is safe; firme peace with France is made:
Nor does this Henry of Castile invade
Thy lands. But oh deare Edward when I see
For whom thou mak'st all Spaine thine enemy,
That men! oh no, that monster, in whose right
Thou go'st, I tremble that my Lord should fight
For such a tyrant, mankind's enemy,
Who has out-done in brutish cruelty
What ere's of Rome's most hated Caesar's told,
Or those Sicilian tyrants fam'd of old.
No Christian, Pagan, or Mahumetan
Can be compar'd with this Castilian.
Not Spain's great forces onely are thy foes,
Not Henry; but the murder'd ghosts of those,
Who now for vengeance 'gainst Don Pedro cry,
Will plead to heaven against thy victory.
There is no human heart that can forbeare
To melt, when they his cruell story heare.
I tremble to recite it; in his reigne
How forty Lords of greatest marke in Spaine
He butcher'd cruelly without a cause:
How, scorning both divine and humane lawes,
Being admitted into Toro Towne,
Vpon condition he should murder none,
He broke his faith, and in his mothers fight
(As blood and torture were his chiefe delight)
[Page]Commanded foure the greatest Lords to dye▪
The Queene, abhorring her sonnes cruelty,
Forsooke his Court, and to her father went.
How foure and twenty Burgers innocent
Within Toledo, 'fore the tyrants face
Were executed in the Market place:
Or with how many study'd tortures there
He rack'd a Iew that was his Treasurer,
With all his friends and kindred, to confesse
Their Treasury, and flew them ne're the lesse.
Nor safe could his owne blood and kindred be
Of either sex, from that dire cruelty.
He kill'd three brothers of his owne: his wife,
Queene Blanch, he poyson'd; and bereav'd of life
In cruell wise his Aunt Queene Leonore,
Commanding then two noble Ladies more,
That were his kindred both, and did remaine
As prisoners in his keeping, to be slaine.
But would you see, besides his bloody vice,
Perfidiousnesse, and sordid Avarice?
A King of Moores exiled from his land,
Old Aben Alamar, at Pedro's hand
To find some succour came; just so as he
Now comes, my Edward, suppliant to thee▪
But he that never knew what pitty was,
In stead of that, when he perceiv'd (alas)
[Page]Th'old King was rich in jewels, caus'd for gaine
Himselfe and all his servants to be slaine.
And as to blood, to all impiety
Is this Don Pedro giv'n; nor is he free
From lust; besides Padilla, who had beene
His strumpet long, and for whose sake the Queene
At last was murdred; when he could not get
To satisfie a sudden lustfull heat,
Faire Donna Iane of Castro to his bed,
A false divorce he caused to be read
Betwixt Queene Blanch and him: and so to Iane
Was marry'd, whom he soone forsooke againe.
For all his divellish acts, at last (though late)
The holy Church did excommunicate
This impious Prince. Wilt thou, deare Edward, be
A friend to whom the Church is enemy?
Oh pardon me, if now I feare thy Fate,
Though still in warre victorious yet. With that
Downe her faire cheeks the teares distill'd apace.
The noble Edward with a kind embrace
Cheeres his bright Princesse; and in words declares
How just a cause excites him to the warres,
Besides the honour he from thence may gaine;
That Pedro is the true-borne Lord of Spaine,
And crowned Monarch; that no vice (what-e're)
Can wash away that sacred Character.
[Page]That Subjects may not put their Soveraigne downe,
Nor give Don Henry title to their Crowne:
But ought to leave that power to God alone,
Who can revenge at full what he has done▪
Or else so clense him from the greatest crimes▪
That Pedro's penitence in after-times
May all his former impious reigne redeeme
(Like King Manasses in Ierusalem)
That it concern'd a true-borne Prince his right
To take that part; lest other Nations might
Hereafter from a president so bad
Vsurpe more freedome than they justly had.
Then taking leave of his deare wife, he went
To that, which after prov'd by accident
A fatall warre to England. Where, though he
Obtain'd a great and glorious victory,
And present honour through all Europe gate:
Yet most unhappy to his future state
The voyage was; his treasures wast which cost
Sad tumults, and his French Dominions lost;
Besides his losse of health. All which was sent
Perchance to Edward as a punishment
For ayding such a monster, though true heire.
Nor long held Pedro his recover'd chaire.
(Soone after th'English went from thence againe,
Depos'd, and by victorious Henry slaine.)
[Page]Thus all their punishments did undergoe,
Castile, Don Pedro, and Prince Edward too:
The Tyrant Pedro for his impious reigne:
Edward for lifting up the fiend againe:
And all Castile by England's conquering sword
Scourg'd for deposing of their lawfull Lord.
With noble Edward to this Spanish warre
Young Iohn of Gaunt the Duke of Lancaster,
His brother marches; to whose future state
Castile shall prove a name more fortunate;
Who by the marriage of Don Pedro's heire
The Royall title of that land shall weare
With large revenues thence. The Duke commands
One of the three Battalia's; with him stands
Brave Sir Iohn Chandois, who in warre before
Had ever beene Prince Edward's Counsellor,
Now set to guide the youth of Princely Iohn.
With him young Beauchamp, noble Warwick's sonne,
And stout Lord Dalbert with a gallant traine
Of Gentlemen, and Knights of Aquitaine.
The Prince of Wales himselfe commands the maine
And middle Battell. Pedro King of Spaine
For whom the warre is made, by Edward's side
There marches on; and English Chieftaines try'd
In many a Battell, then esteem'd to be
The very flowers of Europes Chevalry.
[Page]With many Lords of high account and name,
That from Poictou, from Maine, and Guyenne came.
A Monarch leads the third Battalia on,
Iames of Mallorques, King; that in renowne
Like th'ancient Caesars might blacke Edward stand,
And Kings not scorne to serve in his command.
There th'Earle of Arminacke leads on his power,
And English Knolls, that expert warriour;
Thither the Lords of Dalbreth, Piergort,
And many noble Knights and Squires resort.
With all his army thirty thousand strong
The Prince sets forth from France, to passe along
The famous streights of Roncevall, and through
The kingdome of Navarre gets leave to goe;
By which, with faithfull guides, they passe as farre
Before they meet th'approach of any warre
As faire Victoria on the bounds of Spaine.
There some fore-runners of King Henry's traine
Descry'd, gave notice that the blow was neere.
But thrice as many as Prince Edward's, were
The troops that Henry of Castile had brought.
Besides the natives of the Land, that fought
To guard their new-elected King, and free
Themselves from Pedro's future tyranny,
Th'expertest souldiers of the Realme of France
Come to encrease King Henry's puissance:
[Page]And Saracens, from our invasions free,
Beare here a part in Christian enmity,
And 'gainst Don Pedro guard his brothers throne.
In three great bodies comes that army on.
The first and noblest, where the French-men stand,
Is under Bertram of Cle [...]quy's command:
The greatest body in the midd'st, the King
Himselfe drawes up: the last his brothers bring;
And now beside the towne of Naveret
In faire array are both the battels set.
Renowned Edward to his men declares
Th'undoubted justice of their present warres;
And that no odds of numbers he can feare
When he beholds those men, those Leaders there.
Who, but 'gainst odds, did never battell try:
Yet never fought without a victory.
As those that Sluces navall fight had seene:
That had in Crescy field, and Poictiers beene;
And bids them now maintaine that old renowne
They in so many honour'd fields had wonne.
As much does Bertram his French troops excite;
And briefly tells them they not onely fight
King Henry's Crowne and honour to maintaine,
And winne fame there: but to redeeme againe
That dearest honour 'gainst the English hoast
Which France of late had to that Nation lost.
[Page]But when King Henry, whose great cause was try'd
In that dayes hazard, saw the English side
Were marching on against him in array,
And that the warre admitted no delay:
He thus bespeakes his souldiers: If a cause
Of such great weight, as to this battell drawes
Your farre-engaged hands, could need at all
Th' inciting language of a Generall:
The wrongs of Spaine, and brutish cruelty
Our foe has us'd, afford a scope to me
Too large, too sad to play the Oratour.
But, well I know, your Countries love has power
Enough to raise your highest courages,
And bring you forward, were our army lesse
Than theirs in number (as the odds is ours.)
Vnlesse this battell make us Conquerors,
There can no people be so low as we;
No land so wretched as Castile will be.
Tis not our wealth alone, or lawes we lose;
Nor to be quite o're-runne by forreine foes:
(Though every Nation have esteemed those
The worst) but Spaine must suffer greater woes.
'Gainst her so fierce no forreine sword can be
As her restored tyrants cruelty:
His, who was once depos'd, when to a mind
Before so bloody, sterne revenge is joyn'd.
[Page]If Spaine before could not endure his yoke;
How will she beare it now? if by warres stroke
Our conquering hands make not the action good:
Better the tyrant undisturb'd had stood:
What made old Marius, when returned home,
With so much slaughter fill the streets of Rome,
Marius, whose hand was once her best defence,
But that himselfe had beene exil'd from thence?
The prisons stinch, the shackles that he bore,
The bread he begg'd on wasted Affrick's shore,
Which he himselfe before had overcome,
Made his returne so sad to wretched Rome.
And can we here feare lesse than Marius brought
On Rome? or than the Butcher Sylla wrought,
When not in warres, but executions
So many thousands were destroy'd at once,
If in this battell Pedro should o'recome?
(But God avert from Spaine so sad a doome.)
What sights would all her mourning Cities see
But racks, and gibbets, blood, and cruelty?
The land no place in such a peace could yeeld
More safe from slaughter than this fighting field;
And tortur'd wretches that were left in Spaine,
Would call us happy, who in warre were slaine.
But such a plague to earth I cannot feare
When I behold your manly faces here
[Page]Brave friends and souldiers. To your valours now
Let our deare land a greater safety owe
Than e're she did to one successefull fight.
Nor let the fame of English Edward fright
Your thoughts at all. Fortune has done for him
Enough already; and it well may seeme
Since blinded he maintaines so curs'd a cause,
That she her favour from that Prince withdrawes.
The King had done; when all the Spanish troops
Inflam'd with love of fight, and fill'd with hopes,
A strong desire to heare the signall shew.
All wish to dye, should, what they feare, be true.
From every part confused showts are sent;
And both the hoasts with passions different
Together joyne; th'auxiliary troops
Of France are filled with revengefull hopes
To make the English in that bloody day
For all their conquests, and proud trophees pay.
The English bold by former battels wonne,
And to maintaine their fame, come fiercely on.
As strong resolves the eager Spaniards bring,
Here to establish their new-crowned King:
And by one prosperous fight for ever free
Their wretched land from Pedro's tyranny.
Great is the fury; high the cause is try'd:
Deepe the engagements lye on either side;
[Page]Both armies mighty; in their numbers one:
In prowesse t'other; nor had Spaine e're knowne
(Although of mighty warres so oft the stage,
Though there th'old Punicke and the Roman rage
So long were seene, while fortune doubted yet
Which land to make the worlds Imperiall seat)
Two nobler Hoasts than in that tryall fought.
And yet this storme so blacke, so tragicke, brought
This one sad comfort, that it could not last;
But all the warre, when this great field was past;
The wretched people hop'd would quite expire.
Spaine could not bleed so long, nor feed the fire
So oft with fuell, to protract her fate
As rich (but haplesse) France had done of late.
Against the formost English battell there,
Which Iohn of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster
Brought up, does Bertram of Clesquy advance
With all th'auxiliary troops of France.
There hot and furious the encounter growes.
No where does Death more freely deale his blowes:
No part of all the field more stain'd with blood.
As there the warre began, it longest stood,
And various Fortune longest doubted where
To give her favours. Youthfull Lancaster
Came bravely on in that dayes fight to winne
His maiden fame; and Bertram, that had beene
[Page]Not many yeeres before in Brittaines warre
By famous Chandois taken prisoner,
The Banner of his ancient foe had seene▪
'Gainst which he prest with eager hopes, to winne
From him the honour he had lost againe,
While slaughter'd bodies strew the purple plaine.
With Fate farre different did Don Tello draw
Against Prince Edward's maine Battalia
His forces up, though strong that body were,
And well dispos'd for charging did appeare,
With Speares in front so strongly fortifi'd,
Yet there (alas) King Henry's haplesse side
'Gan first to faile; nor could Don Tello long
Endure the fierce encounter of so strong
And expert souldiers as the Prince had brought;
Who in so many prosperous fields had fought,
And in all feats of warre so well were try'd.
Their fatall taske the strong-nerv'd Archers ply'd
So fast, that soone the ranke of Speares was broke,
And routed so, that they the field forsooke;
The rest left naked, when the Speares were gone,
Are by the Gascoigne Horsemen trampled on.
And now the warres whole fury 'gan to draw
Vpon King Henry's great Battalia;
And was from thence with equall fury met.
So much the Spaniards on that day had set
[Page]Their Countries future fortunes and their owne.
In that Battalia from their slings were throwne
Such mortall stones, as seem'd awhile to be
Aequivalent to th'English Archery;
But could not prove at last so strong an ayd.
There stucke the warre, there Edward's fortune stay'd.
There various feats of hardy armes were wrought;
So many thousand hands to fight were brought.
Nor did the Common souldiers onely there
The toyles of warre, and brunt of dangers beare:
But highest Chiefetaines playd the souldiers parts,
And through the battell with couragious hearts
Their passage made; there sterne Don Pedro fought,
And to the ground that day had many brought.
Pleas'd now he seem'd he might with honour doe
What by his nature he was prompted to
(Shed human blood▪) Most eager was his spite,
His visage blacke. He that had seene him fight
And kill so fast, would have suppos'd that from
Th'infernall caves the Prince of night had come
To worke on earth the ruine of mankind.
But not content with vulgar deaths, his mind
(Had Fortune suffer'd) chiefly aym'd to meet
His brother Henry there. No blood so sweet
As his, could be to Pedro's cruell thought.
So, when of old the Argive Princes fought
[Page]'Gainst fatall Thebes in Polynices right,
The banish'd Prince could with no other fight
Nor Tragedy be pleas'd; but through the presse
Still sought his brother, proud Eteocles;
Vntill at last, in spite of Piety,
They meet in field; and Fate so cruelly
Ballanc'd their impious strengths, that both were slaine,
Yet both did guilty Conquerours remaine.
Nor did King Henry in his thoughts decline
The sad encounter. Had the Power Divine
But let them meet, the like (perchance) had beene;
And Spaine as much as fatall Thebes had seene.
There through the midst the terror of his foes,
Like Mars himselfe, renowned Edward goes.
White Victory still o're his standard slew,
As if no other name but his she knew;
And he in warre did guide the wheele of Fate.
The glittering swords, that shone so bright of late,
Are quickly all distain'd with purple gore;
And all the field with slaughter cover'd o're.
Mischiefe and fury reign'd: Deaths groning sound
The Trumpets noyse, and showts of souldiers drown'd.
But long the heartlesse Spanish troops, how-e're
Great were their numbers, and their quarrell deare,
Could not the prowesse of the English bide.
Which when (alas) unhappy Henry spy'd,
[Page]And that their rankes they 'gan forsake apace,
With restlesse industry from place to place
He rides, to breath into his fainting men
Fresh vigour, and restore the fight agen.
He cryes aloud, oh friends, oh souldiers, why
Doe you forsake so neare a victory?
One stroke will finish what is done almost.
There is no safety when this field is lost.
For swords why seeke you gibbets, and above
A noble death an ignominious love?
With such sad speeches did the eager King
Renew the fury of the fight, and bring
His fainting souldiers on: that bloody grew
The day againe, till th' English spirits anew
Collected, charg'd their rally'd foes so sore,
That soone the Spaniards routed, as before,
Into disorder'd flight began to fall;
Although no office of a Generall
Did Henry leave undone. Thrice did he stay
His vanquish'd men from flight, and thrice that day
Restore the desperate field; but all in vaine:
Nor did the Fates in justice then ordaine
That he should be the Conqueror; one fight
Must needs be lost to prove Don Pedro's right,
And raise Prince Edward's fame. Then must he gaine
That Crowne, when England has abandon'd Spaine.
[Page] b And now the day beyond all hope is lost
On Henry's side; and that great numerous hoast
Fly in amazement, and themselves expose
Without resistance to the conquering foes;
While many thousands, as they thronging flye
From English weapons, in the river dye
That flowes by Naveret; whose streame affords
As many deaths almost as Edward's swords.
Sad Henry, though his heart disdaines to flye,
Yet since reserv'd for Royall dignity
By kinder Fates hereafter, yeelds to flight,
And though sore wounded in the fatall fight,
Vpon his Iennet mounted leaves the field.
By this the French Battalia's, that bad held
The longest out, and first encounter'd, where
Stout Bertram fought 'gainst Iohn of Lancaster,
Are quite consum'd, and weltring in their blood,
Cover the place where late they fighting stood,
Their Chiefes enforc'd to yeeld, and Bertram there
Againe by th' English taken prisoner.
Sterne Mars his taske had to the utmost done;
Nor e're had Spaine beheld a Garland wonne
With more renowne, or conquest more compleat
Than in this famous field of Naveret
Blacke Edward purchas'd; nor could ought allay
The lasting fame of that victorious day,
[Page]Save that the Prince his noble valour lost
On such a cause: that so much blood it cost
To raise a wicked Tyrant, and againe
Advance Don Pedro to the Throne of Spaine.

Annotations upon the seventh Booke.

a Prince Edward, by the common consent of all, brought into Spaine an Army consisting of thirty thousand English, Gascoignes, and other strangers, being for the number of themesteemed as expert soul­diers as any in the world. The cast companies of Eng­lish, which had served in so many famous exploits un­der himselfe and King Edward his father, upon this oc­casion came in to serve him. King Henry of Castile had a great Army, for besides the French, which ser­ved him under the conduct of Bertram of Clesquy, and were in number about foure thousaad men at Armes, besides many other loose troopes; hee had of Spaeniards, Saracens, and others, above fourescore thousand. When it came to Battell, Prince Edward obtained a compleat victory: the slanghter, considering so great a victory, [Page] was not much; for the Spaniards were too soone rou­ted, and did not in their owne deare quarrell behave themselves so stoutly as their French auxiliaries did. But there were slaine of them, besides five hundred Gentlemen of quality, above seven thousand of the common souldiers. Of the English side were slaine (of men of quality) but foure Knights, two Gascoignes, one Almaine, and the fourth an English-max; and of common souldiers about sixteene hundred, as some write; though Froissard saith, not above forty: but the other number is more credible, considering how fiercely the battell was fought, as all agree. There were taken Prisoners to the number of two thousand, and among them the Earle of Dene, Sir Bertram of Clesquy, the Marshall Dandrehen, and many other men of name.

b After this great victory Prince Edward at Burges seated the tyrant Pedro in his Throne againe; and for so great a merit the promised recompenee is required by the Prince, which Don Pedro could not, or cared not to provide, but starving him with delayes, enforced him in the end to returne to Burdeaux, without money to pay his Army, and which was worse, without health; which he never after recovered. Some Hystorians report that hee was poysoned in Spaine: others say it was a [Page] Dropsie, of which the Prince never could bee after cu­red. Such was the successe of this unfortunate action undertaken to right an ungratefull Tyran [...], who after­ward notwithstanding was againe dispossessed, taken and put to death by his brother Henry. But the affaires of England did wonderfully suffer from that time. The Prince to pay his souldiers (who were not able to stay Don Pedro's leisure) coyned his Plate, and when all would not serve, he fell upon a worse mis-fortune (to cure a present want, with a greater and more dura­ble losse) seeking to lay upon his subiects in Gascoigne a new taxation, which bred a most dangerous revolt, namely the imposition of Fevage, or Chimney money, which so discontented the people, that they exclaime against the government of the English, and appeale to the King and Court of France for redresse. The King of Fran [...]e at the instance of divers great Lords, (al­though by the Articles of accord at Brettigny hee were bound to quit all homage for the [...]utchy of Aquitaine, which he might claime of the English) entertaines their complaint, and sends to the Prince of Wales at [...]urde­aux, summoning him to answer before him and his Court at Paris concerning these matters. The Lords of Arminiague, D'Albret, Peregot, Cominges, and many others made their protestations against the King of England, for the Crowne of France, alleaging that [Page] they were by nature to obey that, and not a strange Sove­raigne: that it was absolutely against the fundamentall law of the kingdome to dissever them from the Crowne: that the Contract was made in prison, and therefore by the right of Nations not to obliege: therefore they utter­ly disclaim'd the government of England. By their exam­ple the Cities of the County of Ponthieu, which was King Edward his undoubted inheritance, revolted all to the French King. King Edward complained of this breach of Accord to the Pope and other Christian Princes, but trea­ties availed little the English side, when the French hearts were weary of their yoake, and resolved to returne to their old obedience. From this time, being the 42 yeare of King Edward's reigne, the tide of Fortune was turned from the English to the French side; Edward the Renow­ned Prince of Wales was sicke of a lingring malady, and not able to endure the travell of Warre; and old King Edward was mis-led in England by evill servants, which caused disquiet in Parliaments, and many distempers in the State at home. All these occasions were politikely looked into by Charles (surnamed the Wise) King of France, who though, forewarned by his father and Grand­fathers mis-fortunes, he never would venture any pitch'd battels against the English (for there were divers Armies sent over from hence after that time, but returned fruit­lesse, as the Chronicles will informe you) yet hee omitted [Page] no opportunities of recovering his kingdome by secret soli­citations, large promises, and other wary practises; by which as also some fortunate skirmishes of Bertram his best servant hee recovered all before the death of King Edward, except the Towne of Calleis onely. Those emi­nent victories and great actions, by which the English had gained so much of France, have beene the subject of this Historicall Poem: the particular revolts, flye practices, and petty actions, by which insensibly it was lost againe, you may read distinctly in the Chronicles at large.

FINIS. [Page]

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